


Right and Wrong are my Left and Right

by saltinecracker



Series: Lets be a little bit Selfish [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Book Science, Darcy/Tony - Freeform, F/M, Friends With Benefits, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I swear this is mainly interactions on top of a very thin plot, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha is her own team, New Avengers Family, Not A Fix-It, Not Law Heavy, Not Team-Cap friendly, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sokovia Accords, This doesn't bash Team-Cap, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, but a more reasonable way for them to reuinite without Thanos, former mutual pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltinecracker/pseuds/saltinecracker
Summary: “I’m surprised both our egos fit in here.” And maybe, maybe that was the point that a tiny little part of Tony had swooned. Definitely not noticeably, not even to himself at the time. But the casual acceptance that they both had been and still were giant egotistical jackasses made him feel a little bit better.This family was never going to be normal, just like the previous one. And likely Tony was going to make the same mistakes. Maybe he should just be a bit selfish and enjoy it while he could.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3 so forgive formatting stuff. I have a large chunk written in spurts, but a lot of this is based off dialogue snippets that come to me while pacing, drunk, or stuck in traffic.

The new Avengers were built organically. Maybe that’s why Tony grew comfortable with them. He hadn’t intended to, still hurt and tense from letting the old ones in. Not that all of them were entirely new; some were just misplaced.

It started as a chain. The base being what was left with him, Rhodey, Vision, and Peter. Not that he was going to ask the Spiderling to play Avenger full time. The kid already had enough trouble living a normal life on top of playing vigilante.

Bruce called him within a week of the fallout, but couldn’t return right away. Tony still needed time to boot Thunderbolt out.

From Rhodey, they gained Danvers. Danvers eventually introduced them to Jones, though more in passing than anything. Jones asked for a favor, once, and then she started showing up occasionally. She brought Cage, who brought Rand. Eventually, Jones introduced them to Walters and boy was that… weird.

The fact that Bruce not only had a cousin but she shared a few other similarities with his green bean was a bit overwhelming.

Off handed Jones mentioned Daredevil, and Cage introduced them but he was going to keep to himself unless there happened to be another alien invasion.

Not that Tony didn’t immediately start digging because while he wasn’t going to sell the information to the government he certainly wasn’t in the business of unknown variables. Not anymore.

Then Thor returned; Thor with his Dr. Foster and her assistant, Lewis. Thor with his new friend Dr. Stephen Strange.

“I’m surprised both our egos fit in here.” And maybe, maybe that was the point that a tiny little part of Tony had swooned. Definitely not noticeably, not even to himself at the time. But the casual acceptance that they both had been and still were giant egotistical jackasses made him feel a little bit better.

This family was never going to be normal, just like the previous one. And likely Tony was going to make the same mistakes. Maybe he should just be a bit selfish and enjoy it while he could.

\---

It took five months for things to line up the way they currently were. Much later they’d add new faces and siblings/daughters/uncles whatever without batting an eye.

But it began with Tony folding up Roger’s letter and phone and putting them into a cardboard box. He brought a shipping container to the compound and loaded it up with their left-behind belongings. Natasha’s room was stripped as well. She had vanished around the time the Raft had its break-in and Tony assumed that she wasn’t coming back to their side. Maybe she’d return, on Roger’s side or on her own.

Leftover weapons, prototypes, and that damned shield were locked up in their own crate and shoved into a secure room. The room consisted of a lot of junk, broken suit parts that Tony figured he’d salvage, weird pieces of alien or foreign tech he had already examined and stripped. It was a burial.

There was a crazed drive to his cleaning. Rhodey might have noticed, but he was a little busy what with being paralyzed during a fight that shouldn’t have happened.

It was a weird concept for Tony to admit that he didn't feel safe. He hasn't felt safe in his own skin since Obie- since Stane had ripped his heart out. He hasn't felt safe in his own home since then either, with lovely reinforcement from the Mandarin and Killian. He hasn’t felt safe on his own planet since the invasion of New York. Hasn't felt safe in his own mind since Maximoff.

Secretary Ross was humiliated. His little pet project, the Raft, sitting empty at its failure to do what it promised. Its first prisoners, quite possibly the most politically valuable prisoners of the decade, had escaped.

Tony pushed first. This was just another spot that needed cleaning.

It wasn't a cheap purchase, particularly considering how much money he’d need to modify it. This needed to be perfect. Just in case.  A mobile emergency home.

And even when the walls were unpainted and the cells still usable, Tony slept better in the Raft that night than he ever did in the tower.

But until the Raft was usable as an Avenger’s HQ, he worked out of the tower for most of that year. The floors that had previously been the Avenger’s personal rooms had been redone after he had rebuilt the compound. There were still beds, but the tower was more like a clubhouse. No one really lived there but him and occasionally Pepper. They had their own lives and Tony was insanely glad for this. He didn’t want to recreate the Avenger’s frat house aesthetic of old.

Most of the old team had literally nothing until he invited them in. It made sense then. It doesn’t now.

And, as Tony’s mind wandered, hands slowly laser cutting a fresh sheet of metal, perhaps that forced interaction was partly to blame. They had their own spaces and hobbies, but the whole schtick felt too calculated. Fury had brought them together under a lie and extreme duress. It was like those wartime marriages, where people fell in love because of a common enemy but found post-war that they couldn’t stand each other.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. They were awkward around each other. Everyone had no basis for real, normal, human interaction. Occasionally it was fun.

He missed them, despite that low burn of anger.

At this point in time, it had been a mere six months since the Civil War, as the media had lovingly labeled it. It was a mixed reception. Many people were bashing Tony for being Tony. Hilariously, enough there wasn’t much hate directed for the accords though. Which meant that, at least in the public eye, people weren’t particularly happy with Steve Rogers’ handling of the situation.

Okay, that was putting it lightly, and Tony couldn’t help cracking a tiny grin. People had burned Captain America merchandise for weeks. The Army had loudly declared him dishonorably discharged.

The president liked Rogers, for some goddamn reason, but then the president was kind of an idiot.

Eventually, it slipped Tony’s mind that there were people currently in his tower. He’d never admit to the screechy noise he made when a plate suddenly appeared by his elbow.

“Whoa, dude. Chill,” Lewis, Darcy, whatever was struggling to keep her voice above the pounding bass of the music. Friday lowered the volume a little late. “Look, I even brought you the elixir of life.” There was a mug in her hands that she was holding out, an amused smile on her lips.

Right, Jane and Thor were here. Jane was using Bruce’s lab.

Tony’s back protested as he straightened up, making grabby hands at the mug which Darcy handed over with a snort. A few sips in he finally noticed the bagel gracing the plate with its presence. “Breakfast? What time is it?”

“Ten,” Darcy answered before Friday’s hologram popped up a more exacting time of 10:08 am. “What is it with you nerdy science types and your war with sleep?”

Tony’s fingers twitched, absently running a rhythm on his sternum. There were a lot of answers for that question. “Can’t science when asleep.” He’d only been up 24-ish hours at that point. Not even vaguely concerning. “Aren’t you supposed to be wrangling Dr. Foster?”

“She fell asleep at her desk.” Darcy grinned at him cheekily. “You scared I’m gonna start wrangling you?”

Tony glared at her over the rim of the mug. The coffee wasn’t going to last enough.

“Not my fault baby-sitting nerds is my true calling. My superpower is providing carbs and rebooting your brains.” She reached over and Tony tensed up. Her hand merely gave two gentle pats to his hair before pointing to the plate. “Eat. I’ll leave you to it.”

It wasn’t until the pneumatic doors closed behind her that he relaxed again. Old days, surprise visits often meant food, but that food was also linked to ultimatums and begging and, on a few horrible occasions, tears.

 _“I’ll give you another hour before I’m dragging you out.”_ With Steve, it had been a mixture of ‘it’s cute that you care and I want to strangle you for doing it’. Tony dealt with it because it was decently good attention from Steve, but he hated being forced from his lab. Back when Rogers had been Steve.

Man, he hated Ultron.

Okay, so Darcy wasn’t strong enough or scary enough to threaten him out of the workshop or force him in any way. He was pretty sure she didn’t have any secret spy talents besides her scary love for tasing people. She could pull a Pepper and add tears and guilt trips but Tony wasn’t sure how effective it’d be on him. Sure, pretty girl crying but Pepper only affected him that much because he loved her and knew her for years.

He went back to work.

The bagel was half chewed and hardened. His coffee gone and the mug cold and mocking by the time he was interrupted again.

This time Friday lowered the volume first and he could hear the door's soft woosh but didn’t fully process it. He was elbow deep into a prototype engine, trying to carefully lay in the new circuits.

The smell hit him first. Greasy bagged goodness. His coffee had been changed out for a fresh cup and his plate was missing, a bag of burgers sat innocently in its place. Darcy was nowhere to be found.

 

“I accept your offer to be my super baby sitter,” he said the next day, aka interruption number four. He hadn’t slept in between their encounters unless you count his one-hour power nap while Friday ran some numbers for him. Right now the fabrication units were delaying him getting anything else done but he really didn’t want to sleep yet.

It’s not like time ever helped with his Nightmares™: now with added cold and shattered friendships!

Darcy raised a brow, glasses slipping just a little down her nose. “That offer only stands if Jane’s already here. Can’t abandon her, she doesn’t have the same funds for keeping herself alive.”

Tony shrugged, eyeing the thermos of coffee she had brought this time. It was just out of reach. He sighed dramatically, pushed his wheeled chair just a bit closer and snagged it from her hands. Her hand met his hair again, but he was too preoccupied with inhaling the bitter liquid to really care.

His mouth burned, his eyes burned, he felt jittery but with still that manic edge to keep working. The coffee was both balm and adrenaline. Ambrosia. “Marry me.”

He regretted it the moment he said it. An internal panic alarm telling him those jokes hadn’t worked before. Steve got that little pinched look on his face when he’d say it to Clint and Thor for their provisions of the Coffee. He couldn’t afford to alienate these new allies.

Darcy let out a burst of laughter, only a second long. “You nerds are adorable sleep deprived.”

His mouth was doing that thing again; running on autopilot even while his heart bruised at his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m always adorable.”

Her hand left his hair, sending another spike of panic. _He made her uncomfortable._ She made a disgusted noise before she swiped her thumb over his cheek and left a smear of oil behind.

“You need a fucking shower. Least Jane just gets all naturally gross.”

“You gonna wash my back?”

Darcy eyed him and Tony’s brief blips of panic continued. “Hmm, well, I do have to judge for myself if you’re _always_ adorable.”

Yep. He misjudged this. Thankfully he misjudged this in a good way.

\---

It turned into a Thing, a temporary one sadly as Darcy would follow Dr. Foster later that month to some other dimensional hotspot, but it was a Thing nonetheless.

A Thing filled with food, raunchy banter, and the occasional mind-blowing orgasm.

He always ended up dead asleep after sex. Darcy was exhausting. He wondered if this was how Darcy got Jane to sleep. Fun thought. Unlikely. Maybe pre-Thor days.

And now that Tony was used to human interaction again, he was craving it. Unlike the old days, he couldn’t just swing down to the common room and thrust himself into a conversation. The tower was empty.

Even after seven months, the new Avengers only sort of all knew each other. There wasn’t a lot of time to hang out between their schedules except when villains forced their hands and the occasional practice run that Captain Marvel insisted on.

Angsty-and-Uncertain Tony didn’t have many options. There wasn’t anyone he could call for a chat, and he wasn’t going to bother Rhodey during his physical therapy. But for arrogant playboy, genius, philanthropist Tony… there was at least one option.

“Hey Dumbledore, how’s my favorite sorcerer?”

He’d probably regret this later.

\---

Tony wasn’t sure how it got to this point. Maybe all extended conversations with his teammates were going to end in sex. Maybe it was just the fluke of a girl with a hyperactive sex drive and this was a different fluke, one between two hurt old men who were lonely.

God that sounded so cheesy in his head.

He was tired, wanted to sleep but couldn't draw his eyes away from the slope of Stephen’s back. His confused thoughts were the true culprit for lack of sleep, but he'd rather pretend he was losing sleep over lust than life choices.

Though honestly, these last few choices had been pretty great, all things told. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Stephen's arm was reaching back for him, dragging Tony up against his back.  “Didn't see you as a little spoon kinda guy.” Not that Tony was complaining. He let himself be dragged and molded up against the taller man's back.

“I was cold. Don’t care what you think.” Tony shouldn't find his grumbling cute. That way led to disaster. “And I could feel you boring holes into my back.”

“Since when are you the mature one?” Tony was sure they were both emotionally constipated, but even he couldn't deny the greatest excuse for a cuddle. Warm bodies tended to help keep _some_ of the nightmares at bay.

“I'll trade you tomorrow.”

\---

And boy, he wasn't lying. They were both well versed in the awkward morning after. Stephen maybe less so, but they were both making an effort here to ignore it.

What Tony couldn't ignore was those twitching fingers continually trying to touch him and shy away in turn. Right, it was his turn now.

So he made Stephen coffee, didn't attempt a disastrous breakfast, and casually ran his hands along Stephen’s shoulders.

It was Stephen who broke their unspoken decision. “Should we talk about this?”

Tony froze mug halfway to his mouth before shrugging. “I'm all about plausible deniability.”

That was harsh. Probably. Sounded too much like a ‘forget this ever happened’. It wasn’t like he had intended their chat to get maudlin. He was pretty sure Stephen hadn’t meant to get _that_ drunk.

Stephen snorted, long fingers covering his eyes as he rubbed at them.  He was smiling at least, but plenty of people could smile when they were disappointed. Tony had perfected that. “You just don't want me to spill how mediocre you are.”

“Mediocre?!”

“It's fine, I understand. You had a lot of one-night stands with people below your class. You didn't have to improve-”

Tony forced their mouths together, refusing to let him even finish that thought. He kept it up, teeth leaving dents on Stephen’s bottom lip while he manhandled the sorcerer off the stool. The asshole was laughing slightly into his mouth all the way to Tony's room.

He’d show him mediocre.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please hit that kudos button if you even mildly enjoyed this fic! It helps to motivate me if i know others are reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, having never posted on AO3 I didn't expect to get so many kudos and comments in only a day! Actually, I have no idea if this is a lot, but coming from the dark old days of FF.Net it feels like a lot to me.
> 
> I told myself I'd post the second chap at 100 kudos or one week, whichever came first. Please don't expect this kind of posting schedule in the future though! I might die from trying to keep up to that.

“So we're gonna talk.”

“Like adults.” Strange was tapping on the counter between them with one hand, gently gripping the handle of his mug in the other. The minute shaking was barely noticeable, though, after the last month of surreptitiously meeting, Tony was getting some kind of handle on what that meant. Little shakes meant Strange was calm. Tony wasn’t sure if he wanted Strange to be calm though. Could be good, could be bad.

And honestly? He kind of wanted to keep this guy around for a while.

“Mature responsible adults who converse about feelings.” Tony intentionally winced on the word feelings.

Stephen snorted into his tea. “Do we want to make this a… common occurrence?” His hands were a tad tighter on the mug now. Steadying. 

“I’d say eight times in one month is pretty common already.” Tony was very proud that he only had to initiate half of those calls too.

There were a few moments of silence. Maybe even a few minutes. Both men were occupying themselves with their preferred caffeinated beverages. Tony ended up sniping a few bags of tea from Bruce’s little kitchenette after he had found out Strange preferred tea, even if Tony thought it was an abomination. Now he just had Friday put it on the weekly grocery list.

Stephen swallowed, hand absently rubbing at the stubble growing in around his beard. Tony didn’t bother to hide his staring, particularly when he noticed a few teeth pinching in on Stephen’s bottom lip. The sorcerer took in a breath. “Full disclosure?” 

Tony’s attention snapped up to the man’s eyes. A much more appropriate place to stare at during a conversation. 

“I’d like to keep doing this,” Strange said again after a beat. White knuckles on the mug, but he was keeping his face blank and voice steady. 

“Good.”

“Good?”

“This way I don’t have to bribe you to stay.” Tony went for a quick smirk, lashes lowered just so and purposely trailing his eyes to the parts of Stephen he couldn’t see. Might as well make it obvious. Might be a boost they both need. 

Stephen snorted and just like that the foggy tension filling the room dissipated. “As if you have anything I want.”

“Besides my bed?”

“I’ll definitely steal your bed, with or without you in it.”

“I see how it is.” Tony pointed an accusing finger at him. “You miss the richy boy lifestyle. You just want me for a sugar daddy.”

Stephen had chosen that moment to sip at his tea and he choked just a bit, little coughs interspersing his incredulous glare.

Silence descended again, but this time it was comfortable. Tony began working on his third cup of coffee, mind running through a couple of thoughts and trying to parse how to put it. The news ran on in the background, Stephen’s hand flicking through his phone absently.

Tony needed to say something. He was having  _ feelings _ and while he had vaguely alluded to it, being a little more obvious wouldn’t hurt. Not being obvious tended to just get him a slow build up to disaster.

If he had said something, pre-Ultron, maybe he could have kept Rogers.

“Full disclosure?” Tony started off, waiting til Stephen’s eyes rose up from the portable distraction. “I really want to wrap you up in finery and parade you around like a trophy.”

Stephen gave him a slow blink, lips twitching up on one side. “Not what I was expecting, but I'm intrigued.”

“Long as intrigued doesn't changed to appalled, I'm good. I can work with intrigued.”

Strange was rubbing at his stubble again, probably thinking about shaving and Tony really hoped he wouldn’t for a while. He rather liked Stephen unkempt. “You want to make this public?”

“I don’t want to hide it. But I also don’t want to get the PR team involved.” At least, not in some sort of lengthy campaign to warm the public up to it. Most of the people that would hate him for dating a man probably already hated him. Not like he didn’t have a ‘gay crisis’ scandal in the 90’s. The single incident at MIT had been covered up, but his father was much more thorough than Stane.

“But I also meant that literally.” Tony gave him a rakish grin. “How do you feel about gold chains? In a non-kinky fashion that is.”

\---

Perhaps one of Tony’s favorite things about dating Pepper was spoiling her. She typically refused to let him choose clothes or shoes for her, but she was fine with other accessories. He liked the glitter and sparkle of gemstones and polished metal against fine skin. 

Trash his previous thoughts, this might be a kink. He honestly wasn’t sure, because he couldn’t take his eyes off the simple double chained lariat Stephen was wearing around his neck. His usual high-necked and well-covering clothes would have hidden it, but thankfully for Tony, Stephen wasn’t wearing a shirt right now.

He resisted the urge to grab it like a leash and drag Strange to bed. Lariat’s cinched tight and he wasn’t really into breath play. Instead, he settled for tracing his hand along the chain and rubbing it between his fingers, with the bonus of pressing the back of his hand against Stephen’s warm skin.

“You actually want to play sugar daddy, don’t you?” Stephen’s voice was soft, unaccusing. He sounded at least a little amused.

“It was a bit of a running joke, back with the old team. I like buying gifts.” Though those gifts were usually things that were useful to the old team’s hobbies. He bought Natasha a few pieces of jewelry, but he was careful not to over do it. He didn’t want her to think he was hitting on her. He liked his balls where they were. “And currently I don’t really have anyone to spend my money on.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I do have a limit for this sort of thing. The moment you buy me a condo or a car, I’m done.”

“I was planning to keep things much smaller.” And planning to never tell Stephen about the time he bought Pepper a necklace that could have been traded for a family Honda.  


\-----

Tony was affectionate like a feral cat.

It would take him a while to warm up, to find both his own and the other person’s limits. And soon as those limits were set he pushed and toyed and occasionally backed off entirely.

And now at Avenger’s meetings, that type of affection was taking more form. This was their casual ‘dinner meet-up’. It happened, at a minimum, once a month. It happened generally more frequently because, well, no one would say no to free food. They’d discuss what was happening in their neck of the city, both criminal and personal. Peter was almost always there, but he was the only one in costume, mask rolled up so he could stuff his face with something that wasn’t his aunt’s horrible cooking.

Tony sat next to Stephen, crunched in because the table was originally meant to sit mostly normal people, not the giant muscled physiques of Luke, Thor, and (occasionally) Jennifer with the addition of pretty much everyone that had signed the accords.

Minus Natasha, of course. And King T’Challa. Accords or not, the Black Panther didn’t have time to be an Avenger. Thor, Danny, Darcy, Jane, and Rhodey varied. Out of the five, only Thor was there.

Tony flicked that thought away, knee bouncing and knocking against Stephen who wasn’t making any complaints. Strange had opted for a regular blue button up and slacks instead of his deliciously tight sorcerer get up. Tony was almost disappointed.

Except he could just barely see the glint of gold chain from the collar of Stephen’s shirt and it was making him giddy.

“There was an explosion at one of the apartments not far from my place. Cops are calling it gas, but I’m not buying it.” Jessica was talking between bites of lo mein. “They’re being fishy about it though.”

“Fishy cops are more Daredevil’s thing, Jess.” Luke was reaching around people to add more to his plate and Tony made a mental note to invest in a bigger table. Granted he’d have to build it himself, again. Something to withstand Thor’s enthusiasm and a slew of people too strong for their own good. “Heard some acquaintances of mine got contracts to work on some offshore rig. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you Stark?”

When Tony looked up, he expected some sort of group glare, at the very least accusing or a feeling of ‘Tony no.’ No one here was really looking at him, though Cage had looked up. Food was the focus, and somehow Tony’s suspicious buying habits were not an immediate reason to panic. “I bought the Raft," He found himself spilling honestly. "Technically I bought it two months ago but had to finish up my blueprints before I gut and restructure it.”  


“Wait, really?” Peter’s head had jerked up, a noodle dangling from his mouth. “What for? And how? Ross didn’t sound like the kind of guy to just give up on his underwater fortress.”

“Ross is having problems keeping himself from being dismissed,” Jennifer spoke up. She had to stop eating long enough to tie back her hair before it ended up in her mouth with her food, again. “It’s a weird situation. Because of Stark’s little campaign, the public isn’t happy with the Raft’s capabilities- both for fear that non-powered people might end up in it and because it couldn’t hold the people it was supposed to. And then the president seems upset that Ross even dared to think about putting Captain America in there.”

“POTUS is a fucking idiot,” Tony cut in. “On one hand it’s helping me, on the other hand, some of the shit he’s been trying to push is crazy.” Someone grabbed his wrist and Tony glanced up. Strange had stopped his gesticulating from flinging food at Thor. Thank god. Thor loved food fights. “But to answer in order- I’m planning on a mobile emergency HQ, by slinging a lot of money, words, and Stark products and Ross thankfully is not the private owner of the Raft. It was the military’s and it’s now considered a failure.” 

“Are you keeping any of the cells?” Carol asked, evenly. “They could be useful for transporting prisoners. Though I wouldn’t suggest keeping them there permanently.”

“I wasn’t… planning on it.” Tony didn’t like the idea of keeping any of the prison structure. He couldn’t get the visions of Maximoff and Barton sitting in those cells out of his head, not when he could see the cells themselves at any rate. He hadn’t known Lang or Wilson well enough to be more than mildly bothered for them. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Maybe one?” He liked Carol, honestly. The Major was slowly insinuating herself into the Leader on the field, but unlike Steve, she was much more willing to compromise both on and off it. “If we’re traveling we might need it.”

“I saw the photos. It’s very… gloomy. We could give it a friendlier paint job.” 

“We? Jen, are you volunteering to paint?” Luke shook his head. “‘Cause I’m out if there’s no paycheck.”

“That’s what contractors are for. Though I’m open to suggestions.” 

Which devolved into whether on not painting a prison cell bright magenta counted as torture. Both to the prisoners and the people having to paint it.

\---

Maybe if Tony had been paying more attention to the previous conversation, he wouldn’t have been so surprised to find Jessica in the kitchen a week later, a duffle at her feet and half her hair missing.

“Wha-”

“So my apartment blew up. Hope you don’t mind me keeping that guest room for a while.” She was drinking his coffee; he had Friday fill the pot so he could focus for another five hours. “Nice hickey.” Tony’s hand slapped up to the side of his neck automatically and Jessica just smirked. “And beard burn. Very nice.”

“I hate you.” Tony paused. “Wait, how can you tell it’s beard burn anyway? What kind of bullshit super detective crap is this?”

“I was about 80% sure it was Strange, Strange has a beard, your neck is raw.” She held up her cup in triumph. “Beard burn.”

Oh, this was just going to be a lovely time.


	3. Chapter 3

Jessica was fucking irritating in the way only smart and sharply focused people could be. At least him and Strange weren’t trying to hide their relationship because, fuck, that would have ended in disaster if Jessica had felt like poking her nose into it. 

But she had a full-time job that took her far away from the tower every day. Small mercies.

Sadly she had also scared Stephen away into hiding at his Fortress of Solitude. Because while Strange was fine with the jokes, flirting, and teeny tiny bits of PDA, he had thrown down that he was not an exhibitionist. 

Which as far as Tony could understand was Stephen’s way of expressing worry that she was going to somehow walk in on them having sex. In his Tower. With all his security systems and his very attentive AI guarding them.

Tony rolled his eyes then and continued to do so every time the thought came by. 

The door to the Sanctum looked perfectly ordinary. It was a nicer neighborhood and the apartment itself would be expensive, but the brief glance Tony had gotten through Stephen’s spinning portal definitely made the place look huge.

Probably some Tardis shit or actually, because this was Magic™, whatever that spell was in Harry Potter that made pocket dimensions. 

He went to knock but the door cracked open before he even laid a hand on the wood. Tony pushed in, glancing around nervously when he saw no one around to open it. “And now we’ve ventured into American Horror Story. Wonderful.” 

Tony turned to close the door behind him and when he swiveled back around he was met with a face full of fabric. Before he could panic from suffocating in red, the cloak firmly wrapped around his arm and  _ pulled _ . 

“Strange?!” Tony would never admit to the embarrassing note his voice hit. “Stephen what the fuck is your cape doing?” 

There was no response.

The cloak pulled him in further, dragging him into a room that resembled a damn museum. There was a desk, laptop open and set on some play list but not actually playing any sound. Chairs and couches lined the room, but Stephen wasn’t on any of them.

Tony was suddenly released, the cloak flying behind him and shoving him into a small side room. He glanced at the cloak warily, but it was already flying somewhere else in the building. Tony sighed, taking a step in, glancing over a badly stacked pile of books to see Stephen laid out on a couch.

He looked… well, not particularly alive.

Tony stepped over nervously, hands quickly going to check that he was breathing, finding a pulse on his neck and seeing no blood. He almost looked like he was in a coma. Hell his eyes weren’t even twitching like he might have been deeply dreaming and his breathing was far too slow to be normal. 

“Sometimes the body needs rest but the mind won’t shut up.”

Tony shrieked, whirling around to find the ghostly visage of Strange smirking at him- where he harmlessly stood in the middle of the book pile. Of course, Tony’s brain was running through a million different thoughts on ghosts, hallucinations, and if magic was real, hauntings could be very real-

“It’s astral projection,” Stephen cut in before Tony’s heart attack could continue. “I was reading.”

Tony glanced at the book- the real physical book- held up in Stephen’s translucent hands: _A Brief History of Time_. Tony cleared his throat. “Branching out there, Hermione? Could always use more scientists on the team.” 

Stephen snorted, fazing through the books and going to stand by his body. Tony was trying hard not to flick his eyes back and forth between them. “I’m afraid quantum physics might be a bit beyond me.” He was sitting on/through his fucking  _ body _ and Tony was pretty sure it was just to fuck with him. “Eidetic memory doesn’t prepare one for actually understanding the things they’ve memorized, though it certainly makes it easier to try.”

“And yet you’re still reading it.”

“It’s an interesting read.”

Traumatizing view aside, Tony couldn’t keep the incredulous look from his face. “Are you telling me you’re reading it like a kid in a ‘Bible as Literature’ class?”

“Am I offending your religion, Dr. Stark?” 

_ In more ways than one,  _ Tony thought. 

\---

Strange had gather back into himself. Tony wasn’t sure if astral projections involved anything soul-like and he wasn’t up to weedling better explanations out of Stephen at that moment. Better to prod the man back in his lab where he can have Friday track energy signatures and to whittle it down to something more palatable.

Thor-be-damned, Tony hated magic. It was just science he couldn’t explain yet. Stephen didn’t seem to mind Tony’s rants about it, but that was probably because he was a doctor and already had a more scientific outset. 

Hell, unlike the random magic wielding villains they’ve had to deal with, shouting their usual ‘You fools couldn’t possibly understand my power!’, Stephen was more than happy to go on hour long tangents. 

“Sorry if the cloak was a little rough with you. I’m not sure why it forced you over here.” Strange wandered out towards his desk, setting the book on top of it and shutting his laptop. “It would know I wasn’t in danger and yet it seemed to have made you believe I was.”

“Maybe it was just matchmaking.” Tony didn’t see the stupid cape anywhere around. “Anyway, seems Jess might have been right about the explosions not being gas related, because another one just blew up a few blocks from her place.” 

“Are we investigating?”

“Not unless Jess calls us in, but I have my theories.” Tony shrugged. “Though I’m all for butting into her business if it gets you back into the tower quicker.”

“You’ve barely even seen the Sanctum and yet you already want to leave?”

“I want to smack that fucking smirk off your face, preferably with my dick.”

They were at an impasse, Strange still smirking and Tony pretending that he wasn’t near pouting. “You realize I do, in fact, have a bed of my own.” Tony’s pout lifted just the tiniest bit. “I can give you a tour.”

“Only if the first stop is your room and there’s an extended lecture.” 

\---

He ended up butting into Jones’ investigation, not because she asked him to of course, but mostly because she had just barely survived a second explosion and he liked her too much to let it go. Thankfully Jessica didn’t seem too upset by his meddling. 

Tony would like to say that it was only a bunch of thugs, busting up houses. He knew the source was probably a land grab- destroying older apartments in an attempt to purchase them under people’s noses. He still didn’t know who was funding it though. 

What he hadn’t expected was for the simple thugs to be carrying nasty alien weaponry.

Clad in his armor, Tony managed to hook an arm around Jessica’s waist and pulled them both behind a wall as a beam of energy whizzed by. “I don’t know if you can survive that.”

“Ugh, ok. You were right. I should have called Cage.”

Tony gathered her up tightly in one arm before firing his repulsors and flying to the second story. The outer walls had already been decorated with holes. “Friday, get Cage out here. Even if he’s late, at least there’s someone that won’t break under those hits. I think.”

A beam blasted through the floor about five feet from his boots and Tony took a step back. “Alright, we need to go on the offensive before they set up their charges.”

Jones gestured down. “I take the side, you blast from the top?”

She had flown down before he could comment. They were both stubborn so he doubted he could’ve convinced her to switch. Sadly couldn’t risk going off plan when there was only two of them to support each other.

Tony aimed his arm towards one of the holes, setting off a repulsor blast below where he couldn’t see if he was aiming at anyone or not. The room below was radiating too many energy signatures for him to get a clear view.

A beam tore up concrete just inches from the first hole. Another one barreled through the tiny bit of concrete separating the two holes and it swallowed his gauntlet in heat and pressure. It pushed him off balance and he fell to a knee to stay upright. 

He heard a grunt and several shouts from down below and couldn’t risk another repulsor blast in case Jess was right below him.

“Boss, the structural integrity of the floor-”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Shit, if he tried to fly off this thing he’d probably send the ceiling crashing right on top of her head. And he honestly didn’t know just how superhuman she was. 

Captain Marvel was going to have a shit fit.

“Jones’ hurry the fuck up, the place is coming down explosives or not!”

\---

He hadn’t passed out from the pain or the concussion but from sheer boredom.

Everything had shifted beneath him, piles of bricks and wooden beams, and he honestly could have blasted straight out of it if it wasn’t for the three other floors above him deciding they wanted to join the rumble or the risk of repulsoring a slab of concrete onto Jones.

Which was how Cage had found them: Jess groaning, bleeding, but in very good shape considering a building had come down on her; Tony trapped under enough debris that the only thing staving off the panic attack was sheer adrenaline; two of the three thugs completely crushed, the third one suffering enough broken bones that he would be wrapped up like a mummy. 

Sadly the weapons had also been crushed. Tony had hoped to get a good look at those. Plus mourning the weapons kept him from thinking about ‘acceptable losses’ concerning the dead criminals. 

“You alive there, Stark?” 

He blinked, HUD still active. Cage was lifting the bigger chunks off his chest and face - thankfully they had been balanced above his head and not on top of it - but as pieces shifted, pain lanced up his leg and nausea swirled in his gut. “Whoa, whoa, hold up.”

Friday flicked up a damage report. “Considering the bent state of the left boot, I think your leg might be in a similar state, boss.”

“Joy.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to leave the begs for kudos passed chap 1, whoops. Didn't realize it would default to my previous chapter notes. Thank you for all the support! I can't tell you how happy i am when i log on and see another kudo, comment or bookmark!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait- don't worry this isn't dead or anything. Spring semester just ended last week and I'd been taking some time to sleep off the horror of finals.

“My cast is pink,” was the first thing Tony thought to say upon waking up and finding Carol sitting beside his hospital bed. “The good drugs are gone, your lovely face is here, and my cast has been gendered.”

Carol didn't look amused but she also didn't look ready to scream. “I've already talked to Jones. You two will be sparring together for a while until you both have a better handle on each other's limits.”

Tony couldn't help poking the bear. “Wait, are we skipping the lecture?” There was always a lecture after … well just about any battle he could think of. If it wasn’t Fury’s smarmy and roundabout way of saying ‘Good job but you could do better’ it was Roger’s angry ‘Why in the hell,’ or ‘You didn’t stick to the plan’. 

He actually kind of missed Fury now. Was that sad? That was probably pretty sad.

“I’d like to think my lovely face showing up in your hospital room is enough.” Carol cracked her neck with a relieved sigh, but her tone stayed firm. “Next time if you two decide to go on a mission together, I want to know. I know we consider these our private battles, but I want a record, somewhere, so we can at least find the bodies later.”

At Tony’s disbelieving look, she continued on. “I don't do ‘oh my god what were you thinking’,” and Tony stifled a snort because her delivery was so very deadpan. “Because there's two obvious answers. You thought you could handle it or you didn't think at all. Unless there's some third one you'd like to reveal?”

“No no, you've covered it.”

She nodded, patting him on the arm hard before leaving. “I'll get someone to bring the drugs back.”

“I think I might love you.”

\---

Tony had briefly considered reactivating Extremis after Syberia. His synthetic sternum had been fractured and he was confined to medical for a week until the glorious Dr. Cho gave him permission to leave, on the condition he stayed out of the suit for at least a month. Those were her nice estimates. Her less nice estimates put him in a wheelchair if he decided to even touch his repulsors within three.

He didn't have a functional suit at the time, so that wasn’t a big deal. Spiderman, Vision, the X-men and a smattering of other vigilantes kept the wave of small-timer villains from doing much damage.

Obviously, the fact that the Avengers were split, injured, and licking their wounds was the perfect time for new faces to strike, even though the team as a whole never dealt with single villains. 

Idiots.

Now a broken leg, of all things, had him reconsidering the idea.

In the back of his head there was always that vision Maximoff had implanted; a constant mantra of ‘I can’t protect them’. Tony couldn’t afford to be injured so easily and for so long. He certainly couldn’t afford to be  _ dead _ .

He'd already reinvented the formula, fixed it immediately following the fall of Killian in the off chance that shutting it off in Pepper didn't work. It was just a matter of fabricating the improved nano bots…

Friday hadn't lowered the music, so it took a worrying amount of time before he realized Strange was flipping through his holograms. The bots hovered nearby, but they didn’t make an alarming amount of noise at the doctor’s presence anymore. Traitors, the lot of them.

“This is the virus you mentioned?” He phrased it like a question, but Tony figured it was rhetorical. “Interesting.”

Tony swallowed. He was trying to recall when he had told Stephen about Extremis. It was probably in passing- considering it played a very key role in ruining his previous relationship.

“What brought this on?” Stephen sounded genuinely curious. Tony was much more used to  _ disappointed _ when it came to experimenting on himself.

“Little more fragile than I'd like. Can't be leaving the kids on their own, especially with a flesh and blood one on the way.” This was honestly not how he wanted to reveal that tidbit, but trying to steer the conversation to his parenting skills seemed less dangerous.

Strange blinked, side-eying him. “Are you trying to distract me?”

Tony quirked his lips, forcing a smile. “Friend of mine, his mom’s in hospice. Probably gonna have another teenager around soon.” Too soon. 

Strange hummed, turning back to the screens. Damn, apparently moody teenagers were not enough of a threat to pull his focus away. “I have a request.”

“Shoot.” Tony had to sit on his hand to prevent it from tapping at his chest. 

“Go to that floor you've set up for Dr. Cho. Let me monitor you.”

Right,  _ Doctor _ Strange had a medical licence. Somehow that had slipped Tony’s mind.  “Figured you'd try to talk me out of it.”

Stephen shrugged. “I doubt I could stop you, and from the medical standpoint this seems viable. For the rest, I trust your engineering.” Stephen gave him a small grin, finally turning away from the screens. “You are the robotics expert.”

Tony felt himself deflate, shoulders literally hunching. He’d been working himself up for a fight.  Rubbing tiredly at his eyes, he said, “I can do that.” Much as he didn't want Stephen to see him if it failed (highly unlikely), this was a tiny compromise. Stephen might be much less  _ understanding _ if Tony tried too hard to deny him. “Fabricating the new bots will take a day or two.” 

Stephen nodded. “I assume Friday already has your baselines- ah, thank you.” The screen to his left flickered to life with most of his averages and several of his outliers. Stephen was eying the palladium poisoning period with a stoic gaze, but he thankfully didn’t comment. 

\---

The nanobots were ready late the next day, but Tony figured he should probably wait for Strange since the man kept a more… normal schedule. When he wasn’t projecting himself into his ghost form anyway. 

He got a call. 

“Hey, Danny Phantom, gonna have to move this to Sunday.” Tony hated crutches with the passion of a thousand suns, only exacerbated by the fact that Rhodey had to use them so often. “Gotta go show my face at a legal thing.”

“I’m surprised you’re not delaying it.”

Tony winced. “I’m not making the kid wait there another day.”

“Oh.” Strange set down his book, looking far too normal on Tony’s couch. The penthouse one that is. Stephen rarely looked anything but out of place in his workshop regardless of how much time he spent there. “His mother? When you mentioned it earlier I didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

“She passed early this morning. Legal had the paperwork drawn up last week and have been basically just… waiting.” Out of sight, obviously. Didn’t need Harley seeing them hover like vultures. “Shouldn’t be long.”

\---

Tony couldn’t even compare the terrifying adventure of palladium poisoning to cancer. There were too many distinct differences, mainly in that he knew things- he knew what caused it, when it started, what he could do about it. The only thing he lacked, at the time, was the tool to solve it. 

He had kept just enough in contact with Harley to keep an eye on the kid without drawing attention to him. It was mostly just in text, shooting off quick messages or trying to help with homework over Skype. He was almost tempted to sweep the kid away when Harley had mentioned that, in passing, his mother’s drinking problem was getting worse. Harley had to stop him and assure him there was no abuse going on.

Honestly, thinking about it, Tony would probably prefer to drink himself to death too. He’d come close before.

Not that Tony wasn’t a bit disturbed that Harley seemed to know all the different types of abuse one could go through. Kid was too smart. Plus, ew, psychology.

By the time Tony signed his name on that little sheet of paper, he was left with an understandably moody and angsty 15-year-old. 

He hadn't expected their first physical meeting in nearly four years to start with a punch to his arm and end with the kid gripping his suit sleeves and trying desperately not to cry. 

“I don’t have time to cry, damnit,” Harley had hiccupped, as some way of explanation. “I’ve already spent the last few months…”

“You cry when you need to, just like everyone else.” He awkwardly tried to wrap an arm around Harley’s shoulders. They were seated, otherwise Tony’s crutches would have been in the way. “I mean, kid, this is mourning. There’s no one way to do it.”

“I know.” Harley sniffled. “Eyes hurt like hell though.” 

There'd been a few minutes of mostly quiet. They were stuck in an office sans the lawyers and child protection service reps but it was easy to hear their puttering around and the ringing of phones through the walls.

Harley straightened himself up, rubbing roughly at his eyes with shirt sleeves and pulling a baseball cap tight over his head, the brim hid his red eyes from immediate view. “You didn't stick me with your dumb name, did you?”

“Oh god no.  World doesn't need anymore Starks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know every comment and kudos I see in my inbox brings me such ridiculous joy. Updates should be semi-regular at this point, once a week or every two weeks-ish. 
> 
> As a bonus, here's my writing playlist I've been using for this fic in particular. I tend to listen to a lot of Poets of the Fall, and their song 'Running out of Time' is where the title came from. Not all of them 100% fit the theme of the fic, but a line here or there tends to catch me. If you played Max Payne 2 or Alan Wake a couple of the songs might sound familiar.  
> [Spotify Song List](https://open.spotify.com/user/saltinecp/playlist/6P7KCio1cb7gvgfhLIT4c6)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was that phrase? ‘Worrying just makes you suffer twice’?

Monitors beeped around him as he shifted his leg to sit nice and cozy on a stack of pillows. “Is this all really necessary? Worst case is that I explode, not that I have a heart attack.” Tony was incapable of not picking at the little sticky diodes.

“It’s less for monitoring problems and more seeing exactly what it decides to do.” Stephen tried not to smile, he really did. “I’m more curious than worried.” Not entirely true, of course, but Tony understood scientific curiosity much better than the human propensity to worry. Hell, even Stephen barely understood it.

What was that phrase? ‘Worrying just makes you suffer twice’? “Do you want me to kiss your forehead and pat you on the arm and tell you ‘Everything’s gonna be fine’?” 

Tony was still giving him a mix between high suffering and pouting. “Yes,” he said, exaggerating the pout. 

Stephen played along, letting out his own exaggerated sigh before leaning forward to just barely press his lips to Tony’s forehead. Tony grabbed at the dangling chain around his neck and gave him a light tug downward. 

“I gotta test if Extremis heals beard burn,” Tony mumbled against his mouth, and probably waggled his eyebrows at this point. At Stephen’s eye roll, Tony laughed against him and gave him a long kiss. “Pretend this is the last one.”

“How about we don’t?”

A syringe sat in Tony’s lap. It was ridiculously huge and a very disgusting orange liquid sloshed around inside as Tony picked it up. “Right, so let's get this show started then.” He held it out, needle towards his arm like one would hand off a sword. “Do you want the honors?”

_ Yes _ but also  _ No.  _ It was probably safer and less painful if he injected it, which is why Stephen took it without a word. He could find the veins easily and had a better angle. His brain knew Tony would do this regardless, but that wouldn’t make him feel the least bit better if Stark ended up worse. Now it would be Stephen’s fault.

The human brain was a fucking mess.

It took a while to inject the whole solution. Stephen kept the pressure steady, Tony trying not to flinch at the sight of his own vein bulging and orange. “Small machines still need a wide needle,” Tony commented lightly. When it was all in, needle removed, Tony rubbed gently at the vein trying to work the bulging down. “Still not as bad as a catheter.” Stephen raised a brow and Tony rolled his eyes. “Cho, for my heart surgery. Thankfully I wasn’t awake when she inserted either of them.”

The first thing that became obvious was that Tony’s internal temperature was rising, alarmingly. Both of them could see the monitor, the numbers 107.2 flashing red. “Huh. I don’t feel like I have a fever.” Stark wasn’t sweating either. Stephen pressed the back of his hand lightly against his forehead.

“Well, the equipment isn’t broken. You’re definitely overheated.”

“And my leg is itching like fucking crazy.” Tony tapped at his sternum, lips twisted up. “Honestly didn’t expect it to start working so quick unless it was ...explosive.” His breathing was just a little bit irregular.

The numbers trickled down like molasses, having apparently hit their peak. Around 105, Stephen pulled down the monitor surveying the broken leg. “We’ll give it an hour or so before removing the cast because without stress testing I can’t tell if the cast is just doing its job keeping your bones together or if the gap is getting smaller.” The heart monitor was stable. “Are you feeling anything?”

“I feel like I want to go run a marathon and I hate running.” Tony shuddered a bit, breath picking up. “Also might be having a panic attack.” He said it so frankly that it took a moment for the words to set in for Stephen. 

“What do you need?” Stephen fought valiantly to keep the panic out of his voice. If his patients began having problems he usually wasn’t there for them- the nurses would be. And his own moments, which he would take to his grave, typically just involved drinking himself to sleep. Tony patted the bed and Stephen immediately sat down. 

Tony sat up, his left leg, the good leg, bent so he could lean on it. “Just… talk. Something, anything. Your magic shit,” he wheezed out. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the worst.”

Because that was absolutely comforting. “Just about everyone accused of witchcraft over the centuries was likely using the same magic I’m currently harnessing now.” But Stephen could talk. It didn’t come as naturally to him as Tony, but he certainly could fill in silence. He wrapped a hand lightly around Tony’s ankle, squeezing it. “Even Rasputin is a likely candidate. I found a lot of spells that would explain the failed assassination attempts.”

“Don’t suppose he used an enlargement charm on himself? Because I’ve seen his dick in a jar and it puts a lot of men to shame.” Tony had tucked his face into the crook of his elbow so his voice was muffled.

“Can’t say I’ve found that one yet.” Even through socks and jeans, Stephen could feel the extra heat under the skin. “Merlin was real. He authored at least a handful of the titles in the library.” He felt the ankle shift out of his hand and looked up. Tony tucked it underneath him and tilted sideways so he could partially lean against Stephen’s side. “It’s unlikely anyone hung in Salem was a real witch, as we have too many ways to escape entrapment.”

Tony hummed, shudders still occasionally running through his body. He still hadn’t looked up though. 

“Ancient artifacts, much like my cloak, were likely owned by powerful people who imbued them with some magical power on purpose. But their true power, and personality, is likely a result of being around people for so long.” 

“So it hung around with a bunch of assholes that like to give people heart attacks?” Tony’s voice was clearer, and Stephen could see his face. “Because for some reason I think your cape tried to give me one the last time.”

“I don’t know what goes through it’s… um, mind.” The cloak was fussy. It sometimes acted like an overbearing mother then switched to a puppy with separation issues. “Hell, we might be overcomplicating this. It might have just wanted you to see me.”

Tony shrugged, seemingly drained by the action. Anxiety did take a lot of energy for doing so little. “My leg stopped itching.” 

“I’m not taking it off yet.”

Tony whined, so Stephen could assume he was feeling at least slightly better. His breathing still seemed off and he looked ready to curl up and sleep, but then again Tony looked exhausted about fifty percent of the time. “Come ooon. I have stuff to do today.”

Stephen might be the teensiest bit proud for not falling for those eyes Tony made at him.

\---

 

Stephen had the closest to full access out of anyone not Tony or Pepper, particularly for the workshop. He regularly parked there, tomes in hand, when he wanted attention but didn't want to actually seek it out. 

The current bonus was Friday's constant readouts of Tony's vitals as she monitored him 24/7. And Tony was letting him have access to that as well. Fever currently down to a normal human range at 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit. A distressing temperature but not a ridiculous 107.

“So, you settled in then?”

Stephen looked up from his book, curiously not finding Tony. The voices were coming from just out of his sight.

“I unpacked the crap I needed. Called Sarah, let her rant about grammy.” There was a sigh, like a balloon deflating. “Am I going to an actual school?”

“If you want, though I’m fine with you doing homeschooling if you’d like to stay in for the rest of the year. It’s cold and gross and slushy cause New York is a shitty winter state but I can send you to a school either after break or just wait til the next school year. I’m leaving this up to you kid.”

“Placing a lot of responsibility on these young shoulders.”

Both of them walked into the workshop, but the couch Stephen had been waiting on was tucked just out of sight from the door. 

Tony turned to the kid, arms flailing just a bit. “You damn well know I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Yea, I know.” The ‘angsty teen’ didn’t look miserable. He was at least attempting to smile. “I definitely don’t want to cut in half way. Teaching myself has never been an issue.”

Tony nodded along, sweeping his arm around to grab the nearest rolling chair. His walking was steadier, but he seemed to still be favoring his leg nearly seven hours after the injection. 

“Well if you need parental help or something. I'll find you a good curriculum to follow.”

“I don't want to break you,” the kid said. Did Tony mention his name? Stephen couldn't remember. “I know interacting with kids doesn't come naturally to you.”

“What?” Tony threw himself into the chair, exaggerated sulk #3 initiating. “I’d like to think I’d make a good father.”

“Good is relative, but you won’t be a terrible one.” 

“Good is relative? What teenager even talks like that?” Tony finally glanced over to the couch to catch him staring but didn't break his current banter. Instead, he gestured to U, or Stephen thought it was U anyway because he couldn't always tell them apart, and the robot pushed over another chair.

The teen threw himself into the chair like he was mocking Tony's sulk. “What does Tony Stark know about being a normal teenager?”

“… Touche.” Tony glanced at Stephen again. “Anything to add, Albus?”

“Didn't you already have a sex scandal before graduating M.I.T. at 17?” Maybe that wasn't the best retort in front of a child.

Tony leveled him with a glare. Playful. Tony didn't glare if he was seriously angry. Actually, he was more likely to smile with teeth on full display. “I feel like I'm being ganged up here.” He looked at the kid again but gestured towards Stephen. “Harley, Dr. Stephen Strange, he's an asshole that half lives here. Stephen, Harley's the asshole I adopted.”

“He's your boy toy that Jess mentioned, right?” Stephen wondered if Tony realized the kid was mimicking his slouch.

“Boy toy? Really? When the fuck did you meet Jess?”

“While you were experimenting on yourself. I was hungry. She was in the kitchen. We’re best friends now.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“I like this one,” Stephen found himself cutting in. “He’s going to drive you up the wall.”

“You're supposed to be on my side! My side gets you sex!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, new to posting AO3 and I didn't realize it wasn't sending me emails for every single comment and didn't notice how many I had actually gotten the last chapter. It makes me so happy to see a lot of you enjoy this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stark.”
> 
> Tony paused in his steps, resisting the urge to completely whirl around and instead very carefully gave a half turn. “Romanov.”

It had been eight whole months and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the Avengers of old.

Tony had liked them. They were annoying but he considered them friends and he knew he fucked up sometimes, maybe a lot. Nevertheless he still kinda wanted to forgive them. They fucked him over, on something he was knowledgeable about, had a plan for, something half of them hadn't bothered to read, and yet he wanted to forgive.

And punch them. Maybe one good punch to the face each. He'd probably break his hand on Rogers’ jaw. And Wanda might shred him with magic. 

At the very least he was going to give it to them, screaming, if they made any snide comments about this being his fault.

Maybe.

They hadn't trusted him anymore. God and that was the hard part, wasn't it? It was probably valid, and he had plenty of people who trusted him on certain things now. He didn't  _ need  _ them. He just couldn't help but mull it over, wondering which step had been the first. Ultron was just the catalyst, but it wasn't the first time they had ignored him as an option.

Fuck, forgiving people, even hypothetically, was exhausting. And now Natasha was here, in the building, probably, but in New York definitely. He couldn't even handle it when he had been the one to offer.

“You look like you need a hug.”

Tony rolled over, bleary-eyed, t-shirt looking like a normal rumpled instead of the crazy oily mess he’d usually get from the workshop. He’d been waxing pathetic on his work couch. He mulled it over for a minute. “Probably.”

Darcy walked over to the couch and basically shoved Tony into the back of it to fit herself against him and squeezed. Tony let out a grunt and shoved his face into the crook of her neck. “Better?”

“Mmmf.”

\---

**_Approximately 48 hours ago, Stark Industries - Yokohama, Japan_ **

“Stark.”

Tony paused in his steps, resisting the urge to completely whirl around and instead very carefully gave a half turn. “Romanov.” Though now that he could see her, it was a lot harder to tell. The voice was very her but…

Natasha had her long black hair tied into a cute bun, bangs neatly cut against her forehead. She was wearing a straight cut pantsuit that hid her curves. Honestly, with sunglasses covering her eyes, it was very hard to tell she wasn’t one of the Japanese workers at a glance. 

Which assured him, funny enough, that he wasn’t wrong.

“Didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” He kept his voice even, glancing around the building to see if anyone else was paying attention. Everyone’s heads were tucked down in their cubicles, diligently working. He really needed to do something about the cubes. It felt more like a typical office building than anything Stark related.

“I didn’t think I’d be welcomed.” She removed her glasses, stepping around him and gesturing ahead. He followed though he was definitely cautious.

“Honestly? I’m not sure if you would have been.” Tony swallowed, stepping into the private office. Natasha was always an unknown, running her own scenarios as much as Tony did. Only her end result tended to lean more towards her own survival versus others. He didn’t fault her that. “You know you’re not a fugitive. King T’Challa didn’t tell anyone but me.”

“I know.” Her face was blank and posture relaxed. It felt more real to Tony because Natasha showing her feelings would be an obvious ploy on him, but at the same time, she also knew he responded better to her acting the agent. She might still be playing him but at least this felt more honest. “We fucked up. I fucked up.” Natasha paused, eyes locking onto Tony’s. “And, of course,  _ he _ really fucked up.”

Tony quirked his lips. “Maybe we should all go to couples counseling, miscommunication is a big problem.”

“I don’t regret letting them leave.” Something in Tony’s chest lurched a bit, painfully. “But I do regret what letting them leave… led to.” She closed her eyes, rolling her shoulders. “I’m sorry you got hurt, I’m sorry my actions led to you getting hurt.”

This really shouldn’t be working, but it was. Tony wanted to forgive her anyway, but she was giving him the excuse. “I’d say it wasn’t your fault, but we’re all at fault for this.” 

“I figured… let them go, let them deal with this immediate threat. Resolve the other issues later.” Her lips twitched down. “I played you all into his hands.” 

He couldn’t say out loud that he forgave her. It wasn’t how this game was played. Granted, Natasha wasn’t supposed to be uttering the word ‘sorry’ either. “Are you coming back?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Well lucky for you the Stark jet has plenty of room. Wouldn’t be able to fit the strippers otherwise.”

Tony couldn’t say for sure he knew what a real smile from Romanov would look like, they were rare and he wasn’t sure even then if those weren’t just a bit of acting. This looked real enough. 

\---

**_Present_ **

Tony didn’t remember falling asleep. It was comfortable in that horribly warm way. His back hurt, his nose was smooshed, he was having the slightest bit of trouble breathing because Darcy somehow ended up on top of him and her ample bosom was crushing his lungs.

“Should I be worried?” Tony tilted his chin up, looking over the armrest behind him and catching Stephen’s far too amused smirk. “You look comfortable.” He was leaning over just enough that a sliver of chain was escaping the confines of his shirt collar and Tony zeroed in on it.

“Yes, thank you. I needed it, from an outside source, because someone had to run off and save the world from magical disaster.” Tony had one arm free and used it to wipe the crust from his eyes. Darcy groaned. “Her hugs are the best. Also,” and he emphasized this with his pointer finger, trying to shove it up and poke Strange in the nose or hook his finger around the necklace but the man sat up out of reach, “I’m a playboy, not a player.”

“I didn’t accuse you of a thing.”

The action shifted Darcy, or maybe she had been awake for a little while. “Wasn’t it me, making you all desperate and horny, that got you two dating in the first place?” She waggled her eyebrows, though it was slightly ruined by the fact that she had her cheek still pressed up against Tony’s. 

“No, you got us to have sex, because of- too many words to repeat. We started dating because we agreed we had a mutual investment in the other person's genitals.”

She looked up at Stephen who shrugged. “Not inaccurate.”

Darcy pushed her face into Tony's chest with a groan. “Romance is dead.”

“Hey! I can be plenty romantic.” He lightly shoved her off and she went with an exaggerated roll to the floor. Damn youth. “I can wine and dine the best of them.”

“To be fair, I can be seduced with scotch and shitty medical dramas.” Tony had grabbed his hand and tugged him to the couch with an ‘oof’. The cloak detached and flew off before it could get crushed. 

“Friday, order the entire menu from  _ Lilia _ .” Tony smirked up as Stephen rolled his eyes. But if Darcy was here then Thor was definitely in town. “And I'm about seventy percent sure there's still scotch down here.”

“Oh, hell yes, are we getting wasted?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 might need a little extra time, summer classes just started (though they should be easy) and I have a moderator position for a roleplay forum that I haven't been working on as hard as I should lately. If it's not up by July 7th, feel free to start bothering me, haha.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danvers and Rhodey were the only ones present. They weren’t planning to drag this out into any sort of intimidation tactic. The Black Widow was a super spy. It’d be a waste of time.

“Look I know we let you stay the night, in our bed, because we were all drunk. But stealing my clothes in the morning? Going too far,” Tony mock grumbled as came out, stalking to the kitchenette counter, dressed in Darcy’s ‘Juicy’-printed sweatpants and a tight hoodie.

Darcy made a face, cheeks puffing, while also raising her coffee cup in front of her defensively. She had, in fact, stolen the clothes Tony had shed from yesterday and he narrowed his eyes at her. He had been wearing an oversized and tattered MIT hoodie that was ridiculously comfortable and long. She hadn’t even bothered to put on pants this morning. “That is a great look for you,” she shot back with a smirk.

“Lady Darcy has also gifted me with these ‘Juicy’ pants. They are apparently a huge fashion statement.” Thor was refilling his own giant mug of coffee. Thankfully Tony didn’t even bother with Keurigs in a place that regularly downed the pot before it could get luke warm. “Though my Lady Jane refuses to let me wear it.”

“That’s because only she’s allowed to look at your ass.” Darcy patted Thor on the shoulder while he lifted her about five inches from the ground so she could easily yank another coffee mug from the cabinet.

“And mine’s free game huh?” 

Darcy handed the fresh mug to Tony and he snatched it with an affronted grunt. “Well everyone  _ has  _ already seen it, plus we’re in your penthouse, in your apartment. You literally have all the options.”

Which was the moment that Stephen had finally stumbled out, looking only mildly uncomfortable with both Darcy and Thor witnessing him in his terry-cotton-robed glory. His eyes scanned over Tony, who purposely wiggled his ass the moment Strange’s eyes landed on it. “So it’s one of those mornings then.”

“The good kind? Yes it is.”

It really wasn’t the good kind.

 

\---

 

“Alright, so,” Tony started but took a deep suffering breath as he stepped into the elevator with Natasha. “So, I’ll give it to you straight- honesty is your best policy here.”

Natasha raised a brow. She had to pencil it black to match everything else. He still wasn’t used to her black hair but the roots were beginning to come in. “Even if the truth hurts?”

“Especially if it hurts. Danvers’ is all about best fits. We’re not a military unit but we’ve essentially given her the highest say in who ends up on the field. And she’s smart. Lie to me all you want but she will figure it out.” He cocked his head with a shrug. “Well, she’ll figure out your lying even if she can’t figure out the truth. And then you're… pretty much gone.”

“Too many strikes?” 

“You did vanish for a significantly long time.” Not to mention that half the team was new and didn’t know her. The half that did… varied in how much they trusted her. Even Thor said he had a ‘healthy amount of wary respect’.

Natasha nodded. “And about the King?” As usual her face was straight and stoic. Tony didn’t know if she had the capability to be nervous.

“She won’t ask, so you won’t have to tell her.” Right now. They should probably come clean on that down the line, but Tony didn’t want to put another strike on Natasha here. 

The elevator doors opened to an empty hallway and a single door. It was the ‘official looking debrief room’ that they never used except for special occasions. Inside it resembled something that Nick Fury could be proud of: cold gray walls, uncomfortable chairs, and a wide circular table.

Danvers and Rhodey were the only ones present. They weren’t planning to drag this out into any sort of intimidation tactic. The Black Widow was a super spy. It’d be a waste of time. Even Rhodey who mostly knew her through Tony’s stories didn’t think it'd be worth trying.

“I just want to know where your loyalties are.” Carol had opted for her Marvel uniform and Rhodey in his dress uniform. The effect was not ruined by his wheel chair. 

Natasha actually hesitated and that made Tony nervous. Her eyes lingered on Rhodey for a moment, before locking onto Carol’s. “To myself.” 

Whether or not that had been the right thing to say, Carol didn’t give much indication. She just nodded as if she had already assumed as much. “We’re working on getting the former Avengers pardoned and Stark here suggested it’d be best if we could try to bring them back into the fold.” She leaned back in her chair, reminding Tony of some villainesque character as she brought her hands together under her chin. She just needed a cat. “I’m curious if you have any ideas.”

Natasha smiled. “I have plenty.

“First and foremost, Rogers is extremely concerned for Barnes. Everything concerning the man is a kneejerk reaction.” Tony snorted and Natasha gave him a look.

“Rogers tucked him away safe,” He said plainly, pulling out his phone and finally relaxing into his chair. 

Natasha nodded. “You already know where I assume.”

“Where else?” Tony didn’t even question how Natasha seemed to know. He suspected she might have spied on the old team during some of her time ‘abroad’. “King T’Challa informed us on a private channel when they left Wakanda. We were hoping they’d stick around but…” He made a vague hand motion. Tony was a little pissed that the King had only decided to inform them about the situation after they had left, but the Black Panther had been feeling the team out to see if they would be a threat to his promise to Barnes.

Rhodey sighed from beside him, looking a little drained. He’d been working the hardest on tracking them down saying he ‘didn’t have much else to do’. Friday brought up a zoomed in map of north east Africa. “We suspect the weird attacks in Somalia are probably their doing. It’s a small strike team taking out individual violent sects but there was also some explosion underground. We’ve only been able to get aerial views, but it looks like it might have been an underground bunker.”

“Sounds like a possible Hydra base.” Natasha pulled the holograms to her side, examining the pictures. “Clint would be used to working with whatever he could find. I suspect Rogers experiences in the past would help. Obviously Maximoff is her own weapon.” All their gear had been abandoned on the Raft, though the damage around the storage room implied they had  _ tried _ to get to it. Wilson without his wings was a fairly normal soldier and Lang without the suit would be a fairly competent electrician and possible hacker. Tony honestly didn’t know how smart Lang was beyond what he had dug up, but Pym wouldn’t hire a complete idiot. Sadly, even smart people fell to hero worship. 

“And since it’s fairly close to Wakanda, it’s likely they either heard a rumor of Hydra or that Rogers might have decided to just… ‘help out’ a country torn by civil war?” Rhodey rubbed at his eyes, looking suddenly tired.

“It’d be difficult, obviously. Only Wilson could blend in without completely covering up. But most of them would have experience with similar missions.” Natasha shook her head. “But that wasn’t what you asked me for either- Barnes. We should start with him. Keep tracking the rest, obviously, but once he’s in our custody, Rogers will follow and the rest will follow him.”

It’s not that Tony hadn’t initially thought of it before. He suspected the BARF would be a useful tool to help with deprogramming the Winter Soldier.  He honestly just didn’t want to  _ deal _ with it. And no one else on the team was going to push him to even consider it.

Siberia was sadly not a secret Tony could keep from the others- especially not Rhodey. They saw the tapes of his parents and they saw the damage on his suit and body. They didn’t need to see anything else.

But Natasha was right, if Barnes was fixed, Rogers would be easier to deal with. 

“Can you defrost him for a chat?” Tony asked King T’Challa the next day. He did a full lock down of his workshop and holed up in it for now. Stephen was doing whatever he sort of did for a living (magical house calls?) but even so he didn’t want anyone just walking in and spooking Barnes. 

“The process will take a few hours,” T’Challa didn’t even seem surprised by the request, but then Tony found that he rarely looked surprised by anything. “We’ve woken him up twice previously, it takes him a while to become coherent without issuing commands.” 

Tony spread out his hands, gesturing to the empty expanse behind him. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

It could've gone better, but in the end Barnes was agreeable. 

He seemed especially agreeable when they told him they didn’t know  _ exactly  _ where Rogers was. The tiniest bit of panic had pinched at his face before he smoothed it out and became a blank slate. 

There were two options, either Barnes was shipped there, they doubled down on getting his pardon and Tony worked the machine or Tony spent months teaching someone else to work it and shipped the BARF to Wakanda. Barnes opted for the first option. Tony wished he hadn’t. 

“How difficult will it be?” He had bribed Jennifer into his tower with pasta and wine. “I’m sure we can make a case for brainwashing and mental issues.”

“I wouldn’t plead insanity necessarily. Brainwashing combined with his POW status should be plenty. I’m just not sure how his association with Rogers is going to affect it. Before everything went down we could have used him as a character witness but now…”

Tony nodded. “Are you willing to represent him?”

“Are you willing to pay me?” She tossed back at him.

“Jen, how could you ever think I’d ask you pro bono? Of course I’ll fund this.” He pouted at her over his wine glass and her eyes crinkled just a bit. “I’m offended you’d even consider it.”

“Good. Getting Barnes pardoned should help generate some sympathy for the rest of them as well. And the other supers catching flac.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, sorry this took so long guys! I am working on it for Camp Nano, just sadly a lot of my muse and thoughts for it tend to jump around in the timeline- not the best for chapter by chapter fanfiction.


	8. 7.5 An Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short interlude thing I wrote to make myself feel better. I'm so sorry how long this too to get back to- I've been railing through a few issues both mental and situational. BUT! I should hopefully be back on track now, with at least monthly updates if not faster. To start off with, you'll be getting this chapter AND the next, since this was just a tiny thing I wrote that doesn't really fit anywhere.

Stephen was no stranger to migraines. He felt the swell, the warning signs and quietly inched the blanket over his face. It didn't block all the light from the windows but it made it much more tolerable.

“Dr. Strange,” the familiar feminine tones made him wince as the hidden speakers felt too loud, too surrounding, “you’re showing signs of distress. Should I call for assistance?”

He couldn't not answer, as Friday would take his lack of reply as permission to hunt down one of Tony's trusted physicians. “Just a headache.”

The blinds folded shut automatically, plunging the room into blackness. “There's Fioricet in the bathroom cabinet. Will you be able to get to it?” Her voice came much more quietly and nearer. Stephen realized she was talking through his phone where it lay between the pillows. 

Why would Tony have… actually never mind. Tony was generally wound up, he likely suffered from tension migraines frequently. 

He peeled the blanket from his body, seeing the faintest of yellow light just barely lighting the room enough to see. It wasn't until he tried to sit up that vertigo hit him like a brick and he gently let himself fall back, swallowing. Teeth and eyes clenched shut, he gently laid his arm across his eyes and breathed.

Fuck, he'd gone nearly a year without one, had forgotten how bad it could be. He laid there, not thinking and barely noticing the passage of time while he just tried to remember how to breathe without letting himself get nauseous.

Which is why he startled when the bed dipped next to him. He squinted up at Tony, only barely recognizing through his lashes the goatee. A small pill was pressed to his lips and he swallowed it gratefully, sipping water through an offered straw. 

But pills took time to kick in. Stephen pressed back against the pillows again. Fingers pressed at his face, tracing along his brow to his temple in very deliberate strokes. “Can you move your head to my lap?”

Tony’s hands didn’t leave even as Stephen shifted to lay at an angle and use Tony’s lap as a pillow. Thumbs pressed down on his temples hard, staying there for a while before moving in a circular motion and spiraling further out.

“I’m getting you an appointment with a massage therapist after this. Neck and shoulder work. You’re a doctor, you should know how tensing up there can fuck up your head.”

Stephen huffed, focusing too hard on the pressure from those hands to form words. It wasn’t quite lessening the pain so much as distracting from it as the medication did its work. It felt like it took hours, but it was probably only thirty minutes or so.

He cracked open an eye warily, immediately grateful that Friday was able to tweak the lights to her whim. He glanced up at Tony, who was staring down at him with a single raised brow. His fingers didn’t let up.

“S’up. They kick in yet?” 

“Mph…” 

Tony let up the pressure a bit, only finally removing his thumbs when Stephen turned to lay on his side and then he just wound his fingers in Stephen’s hair instead.

“So, I’m thinking fill the tub as hot as you can take it, turn the jets on high, and wet backrub.” And now Tony was adding just a little bit of nail, the bastard.

“How am I supposed to get up when you’re putting me to sleep?” He wanted to whine when Tony stopped and then tried to shift Stephen off his lap, but he choked it down. 

A shirt flew over the bed and landed on Stephen’s face. He tugged it off and rolled to see Tony working on his zipper. “By giving you incentive to move.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who left kudos and comments, even while it was starting to look like this work might be abandoned, what with the long period between chapters. I don't deserve your love!

It was weird to have a day feel… normal. Was normal even the right word? He had a kid permanently living in his tower now, friendly guests, a bed warmer, and a roommate. Some of it could fall into the category of a ‘normal day’ since it was similar to the Old Avenger days. Even though they had only been a team for four years, there was something about that time that felt like it had overwritten the rest of his life. 

Probably because even though those years hadn’t been fantastic, they were easily some of the best of his life. Everything pre-Ironman was tainted.

Tony sipped at his coffee, just sitting on his couch and going through all his emails from a tiny hologram screen. Harley was a cushion away, playing a game. Neither of them was paying attention to the other, but Tony had felt a weird urge to make sure he spent his free time keeping the teen from being alone. He wasn’t going to let him think of it as fatherly.

Jess rattled some dishes around behind him, likely stealing whatever she could eat quickly before she vanished for the day. Tony was surprised she hadn’t gotten a new apartment yet, but he wasn’t going to voice it. He kind of liked having her around, though they still hadn’t fulfilled Carol’s demand of sparring together.

Tony deleted a few more emails, meeting dates automatically going into his calendar courtesy of Friday. A new email popped up in his inbox with a ding and he froze at the lack of Stark Industries mail tags. “So, Jones, what do you eat for celebrating?” Tony’s eyes were still locked on his phone as if he couldn’t believe the words he was reading. It was a personal email address, no .gov to be found, sent by a certain, less shitty, Ross.

“Anything but Italian,” she said, muffled.

He glanced over the back of the couch, catching her with an entire muffin shoved into her mouth. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure where she was operating her business. Coffee shops? Email only? He should look into that. “Not helpful. At least give me a region. Europe? Asia?”

Jessica swallowed, chugging a glass of water to wash it down as she stole over to Tony’s liquor cabinet and began filling her flask up. Friday would order more if needed. “Mexican, tequila. Is this for tonight’s get together?”

“Yep.” He had actually forgotten that that was today, but it was delightfully convenient. He wouldn’t need to rush out and demand people cancel their plans then. They had shifted it around since many of them had their own Christmas plans because usually it was nearer to the end of the month. 

“What are we celebrating?” She squinted at him, capping her flask off. “Actually, nevermind, I don’t have time to talk. If you feel like telling me you can just text me.”

“You’ll find out in like… seven hours anyway.” Tony turned to Harley, who seemed far too focused on his game system's tiny screen. He kicked at the kid’s foot. “You’re invited too, you know.”

“Not superheroes only?” The kid didn’t look up, but he was smiling just a bit.

“Darcy isn’t a superhero and she comes to eat her weight in pasta, usually. Though you’re not getting tequila.”

Harley wrinkled his nose. “Stuff smells like acetone anyway.” 

\-----

Dinner night was something Tony always had mixed feelings about. There was no getting around the fact that the anxious half of him had definitely developed in reaction to ‘forced’ social time. Avengers v1 hadn’t done this, per se. There were movie nights and other situations where they’d be stuck in the same room but have something else to focus on so they didn’t need to talk. They had all been living under the same roof though, and St- Rogers liked to make these sad faces at him whenever it vaguely sounded like he hadn’t eaten enough. Then he’d lay out this need to make sure Tony ate by watching him, and oh wouldn’t this be more comfortable in your kitchen? 

Had things gone in the happier direction Tony had hoped for years back, then those memories could have been considered cute.

Instead, it just makes delivering big news to a group that he’s honestly been getting along with pretty well (for him), seem like a potential death sentence.

It was good news too, great even. There should be literally no consequences in delivering it to this particular group.

He may have been sampling the tequila before dinner time.

Harley stared at him, concern practically leaking from the boy’s eyes as Tony filled another finger full before downing his second shot in the last hour. “Are you… ok?”

“Just nerves.” Really, that was it. At the moment his life was dealing a great hand, so it’s not like he needed to drink for his usual depressive thoughts. Maybe he could call this preemptive. “I’ll be fine.”

Harley was still staring at him but moved to start setting out the giant box of Mexican food. It was basically the ingredients of catering without paying the help to set it out. Tony found the chaos of people struggling to find what they wanted tended to make the place feel homier. It was also hilarious. “I thought we were celebrating? So what’s there to be nervous about?”

“You ask too many questions.” Which Tony usually liked, generally. Curious minds led to good things. He just wished it wasn’t always poking and prodding at his feelings. But he could give the kid something to chew on because otherwise, he might keep prodding while Tony was drunker. “I’m just more comfortable delivering news to cameras and reporters, not people I know.”

“I thought you knew some of those reporters quite well, Stark.” Natasha sauntered in and for once Tony was really happy to see her, even though she’d be psychoanalyzing him the entire time too. At least she’d keep her concerns to herself.

But at her comment, he just rolled his eyes good naturally. “Oh, well, biblically yes.” He hesitated for a moment before making the executive decision not to drink anymore until dinner started and set his shot glass down and a few inches away. “Funny how few of the team I’ve managed to sleep with.”

“Seems about equal, proportionately. Two out of…” She waved her hand because truthfully she probably didn’t know the exact number of the team anymore. “And at least a dozen reporters out of thousands, millions. Actually, I think you’ve slept with more Avengers at this point.”

“Darcy doesn’t count.” Wait, how did she know about Stephen? 

Natasha stared him down as if reading his thoughts, taking her own shot glass and holding it out for him to fill. “I think Thor would disagree with you there.”

“Tazing a god doesn’t make you an Avenger, it just makes you badass.”

Harley shuddered nearby, already stealing chips. “I really didn’t need to know you slept with Darcy.”

“Shush, the adults are talking.”

People walked in by twos and threes until the table was filled up. Jessica looked to be about even with Tony on the drink level, tossing her empty flask into the sink for a wash. Stephen, thankfully, just seemed amused. They were missing people, but all the regulars were there: Jones, Cage, Danvers, Rhodey, Romanov, Thor, Dr. Foster, Darcy, and Stephen. He'd have to text Bruce, Vision, and Peter the news later. Ironfist and Daredevil would find out from the news eventually.

Tony waited until everyone had some food on their plates or in their mouths. It was great to give impromptu speeches that way people had a harder time commenting immediately. Though usually, he used that trick at galas and charity dinners, not with friends. He stood up, made sure he could be heard over the loud group. “So I got a delightful surprise this morning that I wanted to announce.”

“Please tell me you’re not pregnant.” Of course, Darcy would just talk with her mouth full. “Because you told me you were on the pill.”

Tony tossed a chip at her, both annoyed and secretly grateful since the dumb joke took a lot of tension away from him. “Hardly. You think I didn’t tie my tubes a decade ago?" Rhodey rolled his eyes. No one stepped up to explain to a confused Thor. "Anyway, no. You guys will be happy to know that Secretary Ross is stepping down by the end of the week.”

“This is great news!” Trust Thor to wolf down his food the moment he needed to talk.

“End of the week?” And trust Danvers to pick up on the less fun parts.

Tony sat back down, no longer feeling the need to keep himself from the alcohol. His news was out, people weren’t looking to shred him for it. “The announcement is happening tomorrow morning.”

“And they’ll take a few days to start campaigning for his replacement before he’s officially off duty,” Rhodey added, scooping more salsa onto his plate. “Is he stepping down or was he fired?”

“Officially? Deputy Ross said the President was ready to fire him. Thaddeus is stepping down for appearance's sake. Either way, even if he tries to change his mind, he’s out.” 

“Good, now we can finally just refer to the good Ross without getting mixed up with the shitty Ross,” Jessica said. “I was getting confused sometimes, even though you guys had some lovely nicknames for the shit one.” She lifted the tequila bottle, refilling all the glasses, skipping over Harley and Thor (who brought his own). “Cheers!”

It wasn’t quite a party, but the attitude was drunk and cheery. Harley was probably the only one to make it to a bed at a reasonable hour.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a few of you really don't like Natasha, but she's gonna be in this series quite a bit and in this chapter a lot. Whoops. End note is spoilery for the contents of the chapter but there to clarify a thing.

“We might have a problem.”

Tony _hated_ those words, but he particularly hated hearing them from Natasha. “Now what?” He just wanted his first of many ‘morning’ cups of coffee. Why did shit always happen when he was decaffeinated and hung over? Couldn’t villains give him that small mercy? Jess wasn’t much better, lounging with her head to the breakfast bar and looking like a particularly hungover brand of undead. He could relate, though he didn’t down an entire bottle of tequila by himself last night.

The news was playing Ross’ speech on the big screen TV, though it had been muted and set to captioning. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.

Natasha slid over a few photographs horribly copied and pixelated onto normal paper. Tony abandoned his cup, sliding the pictures closer. “Barton.”  Laura Barton that is. It was an innocent photo of her shopping at some grocery store with a little Nate perched in the seat of the cart. Tony frowned, he already had his suspicions. “Who?”

“A contact of mine in the military. Seems Ross hasn't found the ranch yet, Laura's too paranoid.” Natasha stared at the Secretary of Defense as he talked on the TV, seeming genuinely pissed off. That was rare. “He’s trying to make a move while people are distracted. Or he’s trying to settle something quickly before he’s officially out.”

“Ross will know if we send a quinjet to that town.” Tony swallowed carefully, feeling far too awake now. His head still pounded and Jessica groaned next to him, but she had her head up. Double the order of painkillers. “Do you have a way to contact her?” Natasha tilted her head in acknowledgment and Tony sighed, swirling his finger in the air. “Friday? Assemble.”

\---

Tony wouldn’t willingly go back to the Sanctum again, but Strange wasn’t picking up his phone and this was something that needed to be done ASAP. “Ridcully?” Tony trailed off into the emptiness of the entryway. At least the cloak wasn’t trying to harass him now. Strange was thankfully sitting at a desk, a stack of newspapers around him and earbuds in though Tony couldn’t see what they connected to. “S’up babe,” he said, trying for casual as he leaned his hip against the edge of the desk.

Stephen’s curious look turned flat. Right, shit. That wasn’t a normal nickname and Stephen was hilariously in-tune with that kind of crap. The sorcerer popped out an earbud. “What do you want?”

“Want, want?” Tony raised his voice as he circled around the desk, purposely laying his hands on Stephen’s shoulders. “How could you say that? I can't just come in here to see my handsome bedmate whenever I please because I'm a perfect human being who has never done wrong?”

Stephen sighed, moving paperweights along the edges of the single open newspaper. Tony could see now that it was ridiculously old and yellowed. The font alone was adorably ‘old-timey’. Tony pressed his thumbs hard into sore muscles but he didn’t even get a relaxed sigh. 

“You’re supposed to say ‘I believe you and I love you’,” Tony said to break the silence. Strange titled his head back, hitting Tony in the stomach and Tony saw just a glint of metal on his neck. Wearing one on his off-day? That was a win.

“You can have one of those,” Stephen finally said. “Choose wisely.”

“Ouch!” Tony flinched back one hand in a mock burn, putting it to his heart. It was thumping alarmingly fast considering what that last statement implied. He’d have time to think about it later. “You wound me, Ponder.” That, funny enough, seemed to relax Strange. “Anyway, I did, in fact, come here for a reason because we had a little discussion with Carol.”

“We?”

“And it's been decided that you are our best candidate-”

“ _Candidate_?” Stephen actually sounded worried and Tony kept rubbing his thumb in tight circles. Not that physical touch ever really distracted Stephen from focusing.

“Yeeees.” Oh god, he was getting another Look. Stephen went so far as to break out of Tony’s touch and swivel his chair around to give him the full effect, legs crossed. “To go on a mission. A really simple retrieval.”

He got a slow blink for that. Not a bad sign.

“With Natasha.”

Stephen’s long legs uncrossed and with a tiny kick from his ankle the chair was sent spinning back to the desk and he began reading through his papers again.

“Oh come on.” Tony shifted around so that he was resting his elbows on the desktop and purposely shoving himself into Stephen’s space. “That's not, like, the worst person you could go with.”

“I had a mission with Spiderman where he swung me up into the air like a toy and caught me again in a bridal carry,” Stephen said blandly. He had a very dry look in his gaze but he was also leaning right back into Tony. “I’m well aware of what worse entails.”

“That's not a no.” He tried fluttering his eyelashes. Stephen slapped a hand over Tony’s face, probably so he wouldn’t have to look at it. “I swear,” Tony said through the muffle, “it’s simple, very straightforward-”

“The more you assure me the more I’m worried karma will bite me in the _ass_.”

\---

They’d have to work in steps, though there was this undercurrent of urgency to every little thing the group did. The announcement was made on Sunday, and it was now Monday morning, so they, in theory, had a day or two before Ross got desperate and started sending in attack choppers to comb the farmlands.

The urgency didn’t really explain this.

“Alright, so, wait are you seriously following me into the bathroom?” Tony was already ripping off his undersuit, covered in an oily substance. They had a brief encounter with an idiotic villain who bit off far more than he could chew when deciding to set off a bomb nearby Jessica’s favorite haunt. They really didn’t have time for this, but trying to shove regular hero business onto one of the other groups would just be suspicious.

“This is important and we should discuss it quickly.” Natasha didn’t even blink as he stripped bare in front of her. He kind of hoped she’d become a prude and vanish. No such luck.

“Well, I feel like I took a bath inside a junkyard so excuse me if I shower.” Thankfully getting naked wasn’t a problem for him in most situations. He wasn’t shy.

“Is it going to be a problem having them at the compound with Vision? He seems to have isolated himself a lot. Not to mention it might look odd if food and other things started to be delivered to it again when it’s not being used by humans.”

The compound had basically been emptied by other employees since the Civil War. Many had integrated themselves back with Shield since Tony had scooped them up following the fall. Others stayed on with Stark Enterprises. With Shield back up they really didn’t need a fully manned center for the Avengers. He hacked their networks pretty quickly, seeing as Fury wasn’t in charge and the current director wasn’t paying a lick of attention to Tony. And his PR managers and lawyers that worked exclusively with the Avengers worked at the Tower.

“Well, thankfully your concerns are solved by the same thing, sorta. Vision’s isolating himself, as far as I can tell, from long-term relationships. He’s, I dunno, wary of getting attached. He’s also been cooking…”

The pounding of water didn’t muffle her enough. Since his shower was all sliding glass doors he could still see her standing there very clearly. “Betrayal or just missing her?”

“I have no idea.” It was so matter-of-fact, which to Natasha it probably was. Though the whole ordeal, at least in Tony’s mind, made Natasha’s betrayal of Bruce’s trust back in Sokovia seem minuscule in comparison. Vision might as well be a child when it came to social situations, and Wanda didn’t have the same background as the Black Widow. Plus Natasha had pushed out of necessity, Wanda out of anger. “He’s mostly baking since he has no one to taste test his food. Then he’s been going down to the nearest soup kitchen and giving out whatever he’s made and helping out.” Which was a trip, since the compound was an hour away from the edge of the city.

Natasha blinked. Or he imagined she did. The steam was finally starting to give him an illusion of privacy. She slowly lowered herself to sit on the toilet lid.

“No, seriously, he’s become their best friend at this point. So food going in and out of the compound won’t be an issue. Also, does this not seem weird at all to you?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m taking a fucking shower, with you sitting on my toilet.” The heat from a shower normally felt fantastic after a fight, not so much now.

“It’s not as if I haven’t seen it before- not to mention…”

“My porn aside- it’s less the naked part and more the vulnerability?”

She stared at him through the fogged glass.

“Look, I realize that my clothes aren’t going to make a difference in protecting me against you, emotionally or physically, but can we at least admit this is weird?”

“Yes, fine, we can agree on that.” Her voice sounded off, like she wasn’t quite paying attention. Maybe the whole thing was stressing her out more than she let on.

Partly serious, but mostly trying to inject some humor into the silence, Tony finally hissed, “Ok, you know what, I want some privacy. My ass is no longer local access, its pay per view only.“

He peeked out of the shower only to realize Natasha had already left. He’d contact her once he felt less disgusting. Though he was a little disappointed such a good line had gone to waste.

First and foremost was restocking the compound and warning Vision he’d have visitors very soon. The android was very willing to work with them in general but always had this degree of separation to his human comrades after Leipzig. Tony wasn’t even sure how to fix that. The fact that Vision was willingly living by himself in the compound was probably not helping.

Secondly, they wanted to plan it to coincide with a meeting Tony had with Everett Ross in a few days. He’d set it up to discuss the newest version of the accords, asking the CIA deputy for advice. Carol, Rhodey, and Thor would be there too. It would provide a general ‘alibi’ for the Avengers even with more than half their team unsupervised. It wasn’t public knowledge that Natasha had returned yet and Stephen was so seldom seen that Tony wasn’t even sure Secretary Ross would think to accuse him.

On one hand, this seemed like a rather complicated scheme to help Clint Barton of all people, but on the other, Laura Barton and her kids were completely innocent of this crap. Even if the woman knew where her husband was Tony wasn’t going to risk Ross trying to squeeze the information out of her.

\---

Stephen liked routine.

His first months as a sorcerer were perhaps the most exciting and stressful of his life, barring the absolute crazed state he had been prior to them. Magic and Medical Science were not fixed. The only things routine about them were what experiences had already been labeled and discovered, but within a year someone was going to find something new to add.

Stephen had a routine, even here, like the punching of his time card in his early days of interning. Sorcerers weren’t publically in demand and yet he still got the occasional person, either in the know or extremely superstitious, knocking on his door. The sheer amount of bogus exorcisms he performed…

It’s not like he lied to them, he was very upfront when he’d tell them ‘No, you’re not haunted. I can tell you what the likely culprit is…’, but they’d been very insistent and so he’d perform some hand waving and accept their money and tell himself they were paying him for their peace of mind.

So his day usually consisted of dealing with whatever problem Wong decided to give him. Then a visit from an older lady (it was always little old ladies) asking him to deal with her haunted armoire or similar. And then vanishing into the metallic confines of Stark’s workshop, bedroom, or the Sanctum’s collection of books.

The only reason he even was going through this little mental rant was because his routine hadn’t just been disturbed- it had been rudely crushed beneath the hammer of terrible circumstances. He didn’t even get to deal with Tony beside him, wracking his brain for every fictional magic user in existence to nickname him after.

No, instead he got _Romanov_ and a _bus._

“You don't like me.” He noticed she didn't go with 'trust'. No one there currently trusted her except, perhaps, Tony. Funny enough he probably had the best reason _not_ to.

“I don't know you.” At least she had given him the window seat. It was a lot easier to ignore her if he had a wall to press himself against.

“Fair.” Apparently, that was the end of the inquiry, because she didn't speak for the rest of the thirteen hour bus ride. She hadn't changed her hair color yet, but red roots were beginning to peak out around her hairline.

They were dressed for colder weather, bundled in knit hats and thick coats which was absurdly convenient for hiding one's identity. It also looked a bit ridiculous, since one of them was a terrifyingly competent assassin. Once they hit the rural west the temperatures would begin to rise a little and they'd need to drop layers but…

Well, Christmas was literally a week away so chances of anyone giving enough of a crap to notice them were very low.

They had duffels with extra clothes in it. ‘Precaution’, Natasha had said before they left. Stephen figured if something went wrong he could just open a portal for them but the duffels did add to the disguise.

Stephen couldn’t even bring one of his texts. The books were all bulky and he couldn’t risk anyone picking up the tiniest amount of energy put out by his portals until they needed one. He had his choice of phone time, the copy of Unseen Academicals that Tony had slipped him as a joke, or sleep. He split those thirteen hours around all three, considering the book barely lasted him five hours.

They changed at the bus stop, dropping their old clothes into the trash. Taxi to another town, paid in cash, before they settled in at a cheap motel that let them pay in cash as well. No paper or electronic trails.

Stephen frowned at the single bed. Honestly, sharing with Romanov wasn’t even the problem. Motels were disgusting. Motels in Chicago? Probably worse.

Romanov tossed her bag onto the table without even hesitating, but she was staring at him, like she could read his mind. “The couch looks worse.”

It wasn’t even a couch, it was more like one of those ‘couples’ armchairs. Extra large to suit two people draped all over each other. Stephen’s pinched look made her chuckle.

“I don’t plan on actually sleeping here.” She unzipped her bag, pulling out a few bottles and a towel. “Are you able to keep going tonight?”

He was tired, but not enough to even consider sleeping in that bed. He’d rather risk sleeping on the bus bench a block down. “You mean keep traveling? Yes, but why did we even get the room then?”

Romanov wiggled the bottle in her hand. It was hair dye.

“You’re touching up your roots?”

“Yes. And yours.”

Stephen flinched, one hand immediately going towards the little streaks of grey at his temples. “I thought it looked rather distinguished,” he tried for a moment of levity.

“And very noticeable. Unique. We need to be as cookie cutter as possible.” She tilted her head towards the bathroom. “Sorry. It’s semi-permanent. Should fade with time and your distinguished grey will grow back.”

Her frowned at her tiny smile but followed her in. Best get it over with. Longer they stayed in this place the more likely they’ll end up with _fleas._

By the end of it, Romanov looked more put together and he looked… well, younger. Sort of. Younger him had never been into facial hair.

They left when a few cars pulled in, providing enough energy to distract anyone from their odd exit. Early dusk made it hard to discern most individuals. Towel and hair supplies were discarded at the first fast food dumpster they found. Romanov then hailed a cab to take them to the bus station.

Stephen never did figure out where they were going. Roughly he knew that the farm was somewhere buried in Southwest Iowa. The bus they were taking now would only get them to Des Moines.

Romanov had reduced their luggage down to a single duffel now. Stephen was holding it as they waited for the bus to arrive, her arm linked with his. She laid her head against his arm, quietly talking with an oddly cheerful smile on her face. Just some couple sharing a secret. Stephen wasn’t quite as good at faking smiles, but he tried to seem at least _cheerful_. “We’ll take another bus to Osceola from there. After that the only bus stops are to Nebraska. We’ll have to slip away at one of the rest stops.”

“Where around?” He didn’t ask how no one would notice them, Romanov was probably five steps ahead.

“Usually Villisca. Anywhere around there is good. Then we walk.”

Strangely enough, he was feeling at least mildly better about the whole trip once they were sitting on this bus. Even the exhaustion from the first half-day traveling wasn’t making him grumpy. Maybe leaving the motel brightened his spirits more than he thought.

Romanov took the window seat this time, citing Stephen made a decent shield from any onlookers. “Figure I should tell you the plan.”

If it wasn’t for the fact that Stephen had already witnessed how loud these buses were especially on asphalt, he might have been concerned on someone overhearing them. Almost everyone was plugged into headphones or settling down to sleep.

“The usual rest stop near Villisca is one of those larger ones. We’ll both go in, linger around the vending machines, then hit the family restroom. You’ll follow me in there after about a minute.” They were both leaning towards the other, Stephen feeling more comfortable in their little act the longer it went on.

If he thought about it too hard he’d stiffen up again. After all, the whole point of the Black Widow was to make men feel relaxed before she bit their heads off.

But this was a mission and they were bot in on the act.

His train of thought derailed when Romanov spoke again. “So, you and Stark, huh?” Even as he stiffened and leaned just the tiny bit away from her she continued on, “When did that start? October, November?”

Did he answer? Did it honestly matter at that point? Tony had said they weren’t doing an announcement but he also said they weren’t going to go out of their way to hide it, particularly from the team. Hardly even spy-worthy investigating. “Late October.”

She hummed, no more questions immediately forthcoming. “He seems like he’s adjusting better than I could have hoped.”

Stephen wasn’t going to speculate on Tony’s state of mind, so instead he just shrugged. “I’ve only known him for a total of four months.”

“It’s good. He needs solid ground that isn’t part of the old group.”

He didn’t know what to do with that statement. He glanced back over at her, only to see Romanov facing the window.

They got off at the rest stop like planned. It wasn’t unusual to see people taking their bags off with them. No one wanted to risk having something stolen. Romanov bought one of those little vending machine coffees, taking a sip before handing it off to him and then trailing to the restroom like planned.

He dumped the coffee in the trash and followed.

They had their backs turn to each other, making the only full clothing change. Shedding pants for that supple leather-like armor that Stark made for the ‘on ground’ team members. Stephen was just glad it didn’t chafe.

Their duffel was discarded. Stephen hated the fact that he wasn't wearing his cloak or any of his familiar gear. He had to listen to Romanov, to reason. Everything he owned stood out.

Especially those bright yellow leather gloves. He didn't like his hands being on display in public, regardless of how dark it was. The warm garish gloves they had on before were now in the trash.

Stephen tucked his hands into his pockets. At least the black coat was long. Not trench coat length, but that would probably stand out. “This seems like overkill.”

“Overkill is safer.” She pulled on her underarmor, not even shy about him turning around just a moment too soon. A leather jacket went on top, looking like a mixture between something Shield would assign and something possibly fashionable. She held out a pair of black leather gloves to him and he carefully grabbed them as if she’d pull away last minute.

They waited for the distinct noises of the bus engine, lingering just a few minutes longer. As the sounds faded away they both exited the family bathroom with Stephen lagging behind just a bit. It was long passed midnight, so no one was there to even see them leave.

And now was the fun part, walking.

“It’s about a two hour walk. Can you handle it?” She asked, not unkindly. It was that same neutral tone she had been using all night. Stephen knew she was desperate to get there as quickly as possible.

“I’ll be fine.”

Well, fine was the wrong word. It certainly wasn’t mountain climbing but they early on switched from the nearby gravel roads to walking into people’s pastures which involved the occasional jumping over fence posts, dodging cow pies in the dark, and avoiding the sizzling snap of the electric fences.

They crept onto the Barton farmstead. That was really the only way to put it.

It was still dark but the faintest light from the rising sun was making things just a bit clearer to see. Romanov pulled out a few transmitters from her pockets; video and audio feed directly to Friday. She handed them to Stephen, and he pressed one to a fence post as he passed. It stuck fast and went clear. Romanov did the same as they passed the largest barn, housing a dilapidated tractor before they both skulked to the house. More transmitters there, another on the railing as she approached the back door.

She knocked. Mrs. Barton cracked the door open with a .45 aimed directly at her head. None of the lights were on.

“Laura.”

“Natasha.” Barton’s eyes flickered to Stephen, but she judged Romanov the bigger threat. Probably wise.

“Ross is coming.” She spared no words, and Barton's arm didn't even twitch.

“Not with you?”

“No.”

Stephen wasn’t sure if she meant Clint Barton or Secretary Ross. There was a standoff before Barton's finger left the trigger, sliding off to the safe space on the side. Romanov slipped in beside her. Stephen quickly followed, getting his own personal stare down before Barton shut the door, locking it with triple deadbolts and a chain.

Stephen carefully pressed a transmitter to the wall.

Barton jerked her chin towards him. “And he is?”

“Our way out,” Romanov answered.

“I can make us a direct exit to the compound.”

Barton’s nostrils flared and Stephen could finally see just how harried she looked. Maybe she saw them coming or she knew that trouble was on the way. The photos were almost a week old now, and she had to be paranoid to survive being married to a spy/assassin.

“Pack what you want, we don't have a weight limit,” he told her instead of asking. When he turned around, Romanov was already quietly chatting with the two older children.

“We already have bags. Perks of the job,” Barton said, sarcasm obvious in her tone. She had a holster strapped to her hip and tucked her weapon away, pulling on a long jacket before disappearing into one of the rooms.

Stephen had sort of expected convincing her to be harder, but he supposed Romanov, regardless of her job and which side she supported, counted as trustworthy enough. It might have been more difficult had the children not existed. Barton would have had more options.

She came back out, tossing two bags to the couch. The boy, a preteen, grabbed them both, handing one to the younger girl. Both kids were wearing backpacks as well. Barton came back with a sleepy toddler against her shoulder and what Stephen could only describe as a tactical diaper bag.

It took two seconds for Stephen to wind up a portal directly to the compound’s kitchen, another few to convince them all to step through. He handed Romanov the rest of the transmitters and she quickly scattered them around the house before jumping through herself. He followed without hesitation, feeling a prickle on his neck, like the household ghost was watching him.

Honestly, he was a little worried at how well it went.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarity’s sake I’m referencing the Barton Farmstead to be somewhere in Iowa.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Boss, your temperature is climbing.”
> 
> “Extremis makes me run hot when healing,” he said automatically.
> 
> “You’ve just hit 108, which is over normal parameters.”

They (Tony, Rhodey, Danvers, and Thor) had left nearly a day before Stephen and Natasha to hole up in a hotel and wait for the meeting that would happen tomorrow. Tony preferred getting there last minute, using the ridiculous speeds of his suit or jet to arrive just when he needed to. But this was a different type of meeting. Tony just blamed his early arrival on the former military peeps traveling with him. Rhodey had even gone in with the new braces. They were bulky, stood out, but that only helped the image really.

The meeting was cut short by a blast rocking the building and the four of them quickly took care of it. Apparently, the person was just setting off an EMP to knock out the government mainframes for a bit.

Iron Man was, sadly, not completely immune to it. Same with War Machine. But Thor could take out one measly human.

They wrapped things up quickly since the actual provisional changes had been mostly agreed upon through email and video conferences. The physical meetings tended to be more of a formal show. Some way for the American public (and everyone else watching the Accords), to be assured that they were taking things seriously. It gave them the ability to see the discussions and grievances without the occasionally nasty attitudes.

The flight back wasn’t pleasant. Even though the suit hadn’t dropped out of the sky, just got stuck on the ground, Tony felt like someone had flung sand in his eyes.

He was in his lab, suit already being looked over for better shielding, when the doors slid open. “Wow you look miserable,” Darcy said with her usual flair for stating the obvious in the most upbeat way possible.

“Battle sucked.” Tony didn’t even recognize his own voice.

“You sound like shit too.”

“Thank you.” Tony sniffled, pinching the bundle of nerves under his eyes. “I feel worlds better with you telling me how shitty I am.” He made sure the sarcasm was extra thick in case it didn’t penetrate his choked up and grating voice. “Extremis will take care of it in a bit. The villain of the day just caught us off guard with that EMP.”

Darcy squinted at him. “Wouldn't that affect your shit? You're like half robot.”

“Extremis is mainly viral, doesn't run on the same stuff as a robot.” There were nanobots involved, naturally, but they weren’t quite the same thing as his previous ones. They mainly ran off the tiny electrical impulses given off naturally by the human body. Tony tried to lead his focus back to the offline Iron Man suit but couldn't seem to lock onto it. His brain felt fried.

“Boss, your temperature is climbing.”

“Extremis makes me run hot when healing,” he said automatically.

“You’ve just hit 108, which is over normal parameters.” God, he hated when Friday actually sounded _worried_.

“So you've got a fever, sound like your lungs are filling up and itchy sinuses.” Darcy leaned over his desk and Tony couldn't bring up the will to lean back as she peered into his face. “Throat?”

Tony sighed. His watery eyes couldn't hide the itchiness even if he wanted to deny it. “Hurts, but there was screaming involved.” Angry screaming. He hated being trapped in his suit, even when he could reach the mechanical escapes. He waved to a corner. “There's a syringe in the medkit. I need some blood work done. Extremis wouldn't let me get a damn cold.”

“You usually don’t get fevers with colds. This is more flu.” But Darcy did as told.

Darcy even helped with drawing it out and putting it down where Friday told her because Tony wasn't being much help.  He stared into the distance as everything happened around him, his brain only able to focus on the myriad of discomforts.

As the system dinged, Friday displayed the results in easy to read diagrams instead of the usual confusing cluster that only Tony could parse. He was grateful because he probably couldn't right now. The visual of his zoomed in blood was the most damning evidence...

“So, ok, Extremis is the _reason_ I have the flu,  or whatever. Because the old nanobots from a previous experiment are fried and Extremis is overreacting like a damn allergy in its attempt to remove them.” Tony had actually forgotten they were there.

“So it should go away eventually.”

Temperature wasn’t climbing anymore, stuck at 109. He hoped Extremis would prevent his brain from literally cooking. “Yes. Not soon enough. The virus has to carry the bots to my kidneys and liver so I can expel them.”

“You're gonna piss robots,” Darcy said gleefully. She is beauty, she is grace.

Tony would have snarked back, but he could only sneeze.

The original experiment was, of course, the nanobots he had injected himself just before things went tits up and his house was destroyed by the Mandarin. After he had terrified Pepper with his suit rushing into their bedroom during his nightmare and later when he had destroyed the Iron Legion, he had disconnected them from the mainframe.

But actually removing them from his bloodstream would have been annoying and leaving them functional meant they were less likely to end up giving him a deadly blood clot.

Actually, he should note that. “Friday, high alert for blood clot symptoms.” Of all the times for him to get sick, it was when Stephen wasn’t around.

“Hey,” Darcy’s soft voice startled him a bit. She waggled her eyebrows at him with a grin. “I have a sexy nurse outfit.”

“Now you tell me. Now, when I’m in a somewhat stable relationship?”

“Hey, I plan on keeping all my clothes on, thank you.”

Twelve hours later, Natasha came back. Stephen apparently passed out in his own bed instead of coming up to the tower.

Barton’s family was safely ensconced in the compound.

Stephen came in about six hours later. Tony was still feeling miserable, but his temperature had settled back down to a _mere_ 102.4.

He liked that he could refer to surpassing human baselines like that. _Mere human._ Heh.

“Heard Darcy has a nurse outfit.”

Tony paused with his mug just barely touching his lips, mouthing ‘how’.

Stephen ignored it. Still wearing gloves, black ones which was odd, he grasped Tony’s chin and tilted it up. “Your eyes are still bloodshot.”

“They itch like crazy.” They were purposely aimed to get signals from his brain after all. But he could scratch the rest of his head. It was a lot harder to resist not clawing his eyes out. “You get filled in on the whole thing?”

“Yes.” Stephen reached into his pocket, pulling out some sort of chalky green orb. “Darcy gave this to me.” With a grin, he added, “wasn’t there something about a hot bath, full jets, and a back rub?”

 _God_ that sounded good, but Tony cringed. “I’m gross.”

“You do realize I was about five seconds from vomiting on you during my migraine, right?”

With a grimace and a sigh, Tony stood up dramatically, trying to cover the fact that it was extremely strenuous right now.

The bath bomb smelled like eucalyptus and he could finally breathe out a sigh of relief. Stephen's hands were _everywhere_.

\-----

Just over 24 hours later, someone tripped up one of the sensors at the farm. Even though it was already done, Tony nearly had a panic attack at just how close it had all been.

Tony sipped at his coffee as he watched live footage of soldiers creeping across the farm and then storming the house. Soon as the raid was over, Tony was going to encrypt it and send it straight to Everett Ross. Let the CIA handle it. Ol’ Thunderbolt wasn’t getting out of this one.

Friday reported that the Bartons were getting on well with Vision. Though in this case well translated to no one having a breakdown yet. He was trying to keep Friday’s reports to him concerning Laura at a minimum. Long as she wasn’t trying to sneak information out, she could have her privacy.

Though this made things complicated since Danvers had originally intended on moving the Avengers HQ back out of the Tower. The Raft would be great for certain things but it couldn’t replace having an easy location on the ground within a short flight.

And Tony admitted that if he managed to get the old team back… he really didn’t want them in his Tower either.

Several days till Christmas. They’d probably wait to hit Ross with this until afterward. If they did it quietly an endless amount of people were going to screech conspiracy.

And he still felt sick. Waning, but annoying.

Tony flicked the cameras to minimize and began focusing on something significantly less anxiety-inducing. Mentally he was ticking off presents because of course, he was going to buy everyone _something_. Christmas was his best excuse without looking overbearing, without looking like he was trying to buy someone’s affections.

Tony had a deal with Harley because the kid didn’t want to be smothered regardless who he now lived with. He didn’t even have the independent streak of Jess or Cage. Harley was basically training him to be a responsible parent and that shit wasn’t going to fly.

But Christmas? Oh boy.

“Pity that new system is months away from release.” He had almost gone and built the kid a new computer but Friday had talked him out of it, turning instead to a much more manageable video game or two. And something else. “I feel really weird re-gifting this thing.”

“He’ll like it better knowing it was only being wasted, instead of knowing you went out and spent even more money on him.” He could really do without Friday's sass.

The thing in question was a drawing tablet he originally bought for Steve, back when he was first living in the Tower. It was used maybe all of five times and Steve didn’t even take it with him when they had moved to the compound. But Tony being Tony felt weird giving out something that wasn’t only _used_ but also a few years out of date. There were two newer versions that came out since then, and that's just from this brand.

But Friday had suggested it since the kid apparently liked to doodle.

“You can always say it's from me.”

Tony snorted. “I’ll probably do that.”

He had other orders. A selection of weird beers for Darcy, along with ridiculously large gift card for the bookstore. The ‘Thor crew’ would be chilling in the tower over the holidays so Jane and Thor could bone. Tony and Darcy had both vocally called them on it. So Jane and Thor’s joint gift was a rather risque collection from the adult store. Even Tony had to admit, making Dr. Foster blush was fun, but he also made sure to gift her a few upgrades for her mobile lab. Mostly an updated vehicle because she had been notably complaining about it. Rhodey he got some tickets to a future musical Danvers had mentioned because he was going to encourage that little crush long as he could.

Jess and Luke were hard, both so fiercely independent. He kept it simple, a bottle Jack Daniels Black and a more discreet flask for Jess. Upgraded phones for them both, with triple insurances that the tracking chips were gone and Friday wouldn’t be installed. He wanted to get something else for Luke beyond that but didn't really know him well.

Peter was easy. Almost too easy. He knew the kid had a million hobbies, but he wanted to encourage something useless and fun over biochem.

He wondered how long it'd take him and his friend to finish putting together that Star Destroyer set.

None of these thoughts were enough to stave off the panic attack when he realized another little thing:

Ross. They needed to jump on this opportunity for Barnes.

“Boss? Should I-”

“Mute.”

\-----

“Why are you hand washing dishes?” Mornings never seemed to have a pattern, and with the number of people coming and going from this particular floor’s kitchenette, Tony should really learn to stop being surprised, but he couldn’t. But this wasn’t a bad situation at least. He woke up with his heart rate already fluttering out of control and he hated it.

Harley was very gently sponging a few cups and glasses while the dishwasher warbled next to him. “Because some glasses can’t go in the dishwasher. Darcy asked me to be careful with her beer glass.”

“Harley, I refuse to have guests doing dishes, by hand.” Tony plucked up the glass as Harley set it down, taking in the rainbow swirls that had been added to outside of the glass. Some sort of enamel. “Wow, ugly. She could’ve asked me if she wanted some fancy drinking glass.”

“She got it from some art thing last year, I guess.” Harley paused, rinsing his hands off. “Wait, am I a guest or your kid?”

“That sounded like a tone. That’s something parents say, right? Don’t take that tone with me, boy.” Tony knew half the time words came out of his mouth without permission, but as long as he kept his brain on track, he could at least make sense.

Of course, Harley was a perceptive being. The kid didn’t necessarily know his normal and yet...“Yea, sure- are you ok? You’re … going a bit manic.”

“It’s not entirely unusual, he sometimes gets like this.” A new and wonderful voice popped up, bringing Tony’s heart to a momentary stop as he turned around.

“Ms. Potts, whatever are you doing here?” In casual clothes, drinking coffee out of one of his favorite mugs no less.

Fuck, he missed those freckles and that tiny little smile she had in the morning when things were slow and she could enjoy her coffee instead of rushing to the office. “I do still live here, sometimes. You made sure I knew that.”

“I thought this place wasn’t good enough for you or was it just me?” Tony’s mouth snapped shut. Fuck, brain, abort. Abort.

Silence. Pepper’s shocked look was also tinged with sadness whereas Harley looked like he’d stepped into an alternate dimension.

“That last part wasn’t…” His favorite weapon, words, just dried up in his throat. Instead, his brain was cataloging his escape route. He had a coffee machine in his workshop, he just needed to make it to his elevator.

“Do you want me to just ignore it?” And Pepper’s tone, so sweet and filled with understanding. He almost hated it.

“Yes, please.”

Harley’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Are you okay?”

Pepper was staring at him with a knowing look, concern very apparent on her features. “Probably not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Why’d he adopt a budding therapist into his midst?

“No.” He was on edge because there was something he already planned on doing today. Nothing particularly bad, but necessary to keep himself from dying of anxiety in the next week.

Pepper’s concern didn’t wash off, in fact, she was starting to stand, mug left on the breakfast bar. “Don’t self-sabotage yourself again, please.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

\-----

He woke up slowly, coming to awareness surrounded by his familiar room and the feel of a ratty old blanket. His head hurt. Diagnostics filtered in under his eyelids.

He hadn't turned much on initially, but enough that he had an awareness of Friday. He knew where Dum-E and U were in the room.

He could see his body near the couch through the security camera, Stephen leaning over him.

Tony opened his eyes.

“Is this why you needed extremis?” Stephen's voice was tight. The was a pause. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, actually. Minus the impending doom of an argument.” He shouldn't be toying with it, but Tony’s emotional skills were garbage.

Stephen didn't say anything, just gently sat on the edge of the couch, foot lightly touching Tony’s thigh. His hands were shaking.

Tony felt compelled to spill more, assure him. “This wasn't because of extremis. I mean I've actually had this programming in me for years, I just shut it off.”

At Stephen's look, Tony tensed. The other man was eyeing him with intense focus. There was a dampness at the corner of his eyes that filled Tony with dread. “I'm.. I'm not angry... I'm just…” Stephen never stuttered.

_Please don't say disappointed_

“Tony, I was worried. I was terrified. Your own children couldn't tell me what was going on.  Friday could only tell me you’d been on the floor for over two hours.”

Oh, right those permissions were much older, under Jarvis…

Tony bit at the inside of his cheek, pushing up until he could sit upright. He pushed a little more until he could lean against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry”

He could practically hear Pepper’s ‘I know’ in Stephen’s sigh. It hurt, the guilt dropping into his gut like a rock. A hand threaded through Tony's hair and he easily relaxed into it, cheek falling to press against Stephen’s thigh.

“I need you to tell me these things…” Tony glanced up and Stephen was still staring at him but seemed to have stalled his own panic attack. “I know you're a living shell of anxiety and what ifs, but please… some warning.”

“Ok,” there wasn’t really anything else he could say to that.

“So… why?”

The most loaded word in the world. “I've gotten comfortable…” and he didn't get to keep things when comfortable.

“And that's a bad thing?” The hand never stopped its assault on the tangles in his hair. The tremors were impossible to ignore.

“I don't get to stay comfortable,” Tony mumbled. “I’m basically just sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop. Either there's going to be another world disaster or Ross somehow fucks me over or… you finally don't come back.”

The ‘ _to me_ ’ went unsaid. Christ, he was so needy.

“And why would I do that?” Stephen’s voice had fallen into something more familiar, some part sarcasm and coddling, but still softer than his normal delivery.

“Because _I_ don't get to keep people.”

There was a snort and Tony tilted his head up, much as he didn’t want to dislodge the hand. Stephen was leaning to the side just enough to use his other hand to cradle his head. “Harley's going to psychoanalyze you into oblivion.”

“I am twice his age, he is not allowed.” Not that Strange was wrong. Fuck, especially after his little freakout earlier that day. Pepper was going to be ballistic but that didn’t carry the usual amount of trepidation anymore. Natasha would probably also have something to say, he just had no clue what.

“Should I say something sappy? Would that make you feel better?”

Why was this so easy? It shouldn’t be this easy. But Stephen had hardly given him grief for anything beyond keeping him in the dark the few times things had gone tits up. Oh, right, and Tony needed to go try and talk to that Wong guy about a thing behind his back. He was less worried about Stephen’s reaction than Wong’s cooperation.

“Maybe,” he finally answered.

“I've grown very fond of you.”

“Wow, there was so much effort put into that.” Tony grabbed Stephen’s hand and put it back on his head.

“Please don't make me the responsible adult in this relationship.” Stephen’s head hit the back of the sofa with a soft thunk.

“But you're a doctor, I'm not even willing to go to a doctor if my blood is literally everywhere.” Tony’s mouth snapped shut at Stephen’s glare, but it at least seemed more playful than anything.

“I ran off to see a miracle healer in India on the off chance they could cure me after spending all my money and driving away the only person who cared about me.”

Tony digested this, though he had already known the facts behind the whole sorcerer gig. It was hard not to. Famous neurosurgeon in a car crash? Famous neurosurgeon throwing money around in a desperate bid to get his hands functional again? Tabloids ate shit like that up, at least for the smaller articles. “Is this a competition now?”

“Are you still worried I'll vanish?” Stephen asked instead of answering, but he had started combing Tony’s hair again. “We're not dissimilar, is what I’m trying to push. The people who say opposites attract are only focusing on the differences between couples not how similar they are. For one we both have a hard time expressing ourselves without sarcasm and passive aggression.”

Tony only paused for a moment, hoping he was timing this right because he was feeling wrung out but didn’t want the conversation to end on a bad note. “You're not supposed to be making logical sense, you're supposed to get over here and pet me and tell me everything will be ok.”

Stephen snorted and Tony could just imagine him rolling his eyes.

“Are you just going to pretend your little freakout and need to experiment on yourself, again, didn't just happen?”

“Eh, it'll be a problem for future me.”

 


End file.
